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“Half-an-Hour Before Service.” 



A Strange Disclosure 


A TALE OF NEW ENGLAND LIFE 


Her sinless life will find the place 
Where Innocence alone is blest, — 
The Pure in Heart shall see His face 
In their own souls, for there it rests ! 

— Z. Z. A. Very. 


BY 

' LYDIA L. A. VERY 

AUTHOR OF “sylph,” “SAYINGS AND DOINGS,” ETC., ETC.. 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR 


BOSTON 

JAMES H. EARLE, PUBLISHER 

178 Washington Street 


Copyright, 1898 
' By LYDIA L. A. VERY 


All rights reserved 



TW'Oi.Oi 






^ o C? 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER page 

I. The Arrival and Reception 7 

II. The Journey and Return 15 

III. The Sexton’s Family 27 

IV. Miss Sally’s Patrons 33 

V. Mysterious Noises. The Old Graveyard 46 

VI. Parson Gossper 54 

VII. A Night of Exposure 60 

VIII. An Adventure in the Woods 72 

IX. Musical Studies 79 

X. First Appearance in Public 90 

XI. Miss Sally’s Amusement. Mid-night Fright 102 

XII. Miss Sally Makes a New Acquaintance 113 

XIII. Kris 136 

XIV. Parson Gossper Interested in Violet 142 

XV. The Wedding 154 

XVI. Reading from the Poets Applied 164 

XVII. Doubts. A Young Heart Blighted 170 

XVTII. A Bridal Party Interrupted 178 

XIX. The Robbery and the Tragedy 1 87 

XX. Miss Sally’s Illness 193 

XXL An Old Friend Regained... 199 

XXII. Renovation 206 

XXIII. A Pleasant Interruption to a Lonely Musing 2H' 



CHAPTER I. 

THE ARRIVAL AND RECEPTION. 


“ Fair as a summer’s dream was Violetj — 

Such dream as in a poet’s soul might start 
Musing of old loves while the moon doth set : 

Her hair was not more sunny than her heart, 
Though like a natural, golden coronet 
It circled her dear head with careless art. 
Mocking the sunshine, that would fain have lent 
To its frank grace a richer ornament.” 


was towards the close of a summer 
afternoon. The sun was just taking a 
farewell glance at the village of Rock- 
shire ; gilding the waters of the river 
that formed its western boundary ; a 
busy river it was, washing away the refuse of the 
village and still, like a tidy housewife, always 
looking clean and smiling, with no traces of its 
dirty work soiling its liquid robes. Busy it was, 
turning the grist mills in its course, working on 
steadily, soberly. And yet it was full of frolic 
and fun, as the sun well knew, for its golden 
beams were always waiting to meet it, after it had 
followed its shady course beneath the old willows 
and tall elms that lined its banks for some dis- 
tance ; and then what a merry time there was ! 



8 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


The waters dancing and leaping over the rapids, 
and the sunbeams laughing and chasing them, 
like excited children running after their playmates ; 
the race never seemingly decided, for the sun- 
beams and the waves kept together, until both 
were out of sight. 

The sun’s farewell glance rested on the form of 
a tall, awkward looking woman, who was making 
her way rapidly through the principal street of the 
village. 

Straight, bony and angular, her frame showed 
the effect of continued labor. Her sharp, gray 
eyes twinkled with a peculiar shrewdness ; and the 
few corkscrew curls that hung over her wrinkled 
forehead, told that the vanity, which is said to be 
indicated by the least regard to personal appear- 
ance in woman, was not wholly extinct. 

Her dress was afterthe fashion of rural districts, 
of brilliant red overspread with bright flowers ; a 
green plaid shawl covered her shoulders, and a 
small ^bonnet, the front of it filled with a profu- 
sion of gaudy flowers, was perched on her head, 
revealing the sharp outline of her features. 

She bent her steps toward a large, four story 
building that stood at the end of the street, 
ascended the steps and gave the bell a vigorous pull. 

Nobody came; — she rang again, and again, 
with renewed energy. 

“There,” said she at last, “that’s as much as 
politeness requires, and now in I go, for I can’t 
waste my time standing here !” 


THE ARRIVAL AND RECEPTION. 


9 


So in she walked. 

The large entry was scrupulously neat; there 
were several doars on each side : after knocking 
at and trying each in succession, the woman, 
whom we shall now introduce to our readers as 
Miss Sally Harwood, came to one at the end of it, 
the upper part of which was glass,, with a green 
baize curtain ; the curtain w'as slightly aside and 
Miss Sally peeped in — quite a domestic scene 
met her eyes. 

The room was covered with a neat carpet, a 
round table spread with a snowy cloth held a cold 
chicken, a cranberry pie, two custards, four nice 
rolls and a plate of golden butter ; while on the 
air-tight stove a tea-pot hissed and sputtered, as if 
to say that it was all ready, whether the company 
were or not. The occupants of the room were a 
young man, pale and thin, with a profusion of 
light, tan colored hair falling over his black coat, 
who sat on one side of the table, devouring the 
contents beforehand with his eyes, and a w'oman, 
some years older than himself, but who appeared 
to be trying to make herself seem very youthful, 
judging from the simpering smiles and pretended 
bashful glances she was casting at him. 

Miss Sally (shall I confess it?) listened ! 

“Well Cynthia,” said he, “your table looks 
quite inviting ; I wouldn’t miss one of your invita- 
tions for the world. Superintendent’s away, I 
suppose.” 


10 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“ You judge so from my invite, I guess, Josiah 
— for we poor matrons can’t have any company 
except when he is away, and when the cat’s aw^ay 
the mice will play, you know I” 

“ How long will he be gone?” asked Josiah. 

“ He won’t be back till nine,” was the answer ; 
“ but all is ready, and we had better take our tea.” 

“ With all my heart,” replied her gallant 
visitor. “ Shall I have the honor to hand you a 
chair?” 

A loud knocking from Miss Sally interrupted 
the conversation. 

Josiah dropped the chair and sat down, his eyes 
resting upon the eatables, seemingly intent on de- 
termining in his mind which was the largest 
quarter of the pie, and the fattest leg and wing of 
the chicken. 

The matron’s smile changed to a frown as she 
opened the door ; she tried to assume a very sweet 
voice much at variance with her sour looks. 

“ What’s your pleasure, ma’am,” said she. 

“ I came,” replied the visitor, “to inquire if 1 
could have a little girl of about twelve years of 
age, bound out to me.” 

“ Well,” hesitated the matron, looking at Josiah, 
and at the supper table, “ I don’t know how we 
can accommodate you. Superintendent’s away — ” 

“I’m of opinion,” rejoined Miss Sally, “that if 
I can’t be accommodated to-day” (looking at the 
good things on the table) “ I’ll have to stay to 
supper and over night, for I’ve spent four and six 


THE ARR/VAL AND RECEPTION 


1 1 


coming and it will cost as much to get back, and 
I ain’t going to spend it for nothing !” 

Josiah cast a deprecatory glance at Miss Cyn- 
thia, who said, changing her mind very suddenly 
and illustrating the proverb, that circumstances 
alter cases : 

“ Well, I don’t know, if Mr. Josiah will do the 
writing, I can go up and get Miss Pennimen to 
send the girls down.” 

Her friend nodded assent, and the visitor adding 
rather sharply “I wish you would then,” Miss 
Cynthia departed on her errand ; she soon returned, 
half leading, half pushing, five girls before her 
into the room. 

Three of them were large and strong, dark 
browed and sulky in appearance ; the fourth had 
red hair, was freckled and thin ; the fifth was pale 
and slender, but her large blue eyes, silky brown 
hair, that gave back a golden glow in the sunshine 
as it hung in curls round her neck, her sweet 
expression reminded one of the Madonnas of the 
old masters. 

“I would advise you,” said the matron, “ to 
take one of these,” pointing to the three larger 
girls, “ you can get more work out of them.” 

“ I’m much obliged to you for your advice, but 
I always follow my own judgment, and I choose 
this one,” turning to the last mentioned — “the 
others are strong, but whether you can make them 
put out their strength is another question. I’ve 
seen these strong sulky looking girls before, — and 


12 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


I don’t want that one either, for red heads always 
have a terrible temper.” 

One might have thought that the visitor selected 
her for her beauty, but this was not the case — she 
saw in her a meek, submissive slave, and that was 
what she wanted. 

“I’m sure,” returned Miss Cynthia, “I don’t 
want to influence you, and, if that is your choice, 
it’s all the same to me. Violet,” she resumed, 
turning to the child, “ you can go upstairs and ask 
Miss Pennimen to give you your clothes and you 
can bid her goodby, if you wish.” 

Then Miss Cynthia requested Mr. Josiah to 
make out the necessary writings which Miss Sally 
signed. 

Violet left the room with tears in her eyes ; 
resistance she knew was out of the question. Bid 
her goodby if she wished! 

What other thought could be uppermost in her 
mind, than that, making her heart beat as if it 
would burst. Bid her goodhy.^ if she wished! the 
only true friend she had ever known — taking the 
place of father and mother from her earliest recol- 
lection, ever since she was a tiny infant. She ran 
up the long flight of steps, for she knew it would 
give her more time. Reaching the room where 
the larger girls were busil}" at work, ranged round 
the walls on low seats, she ran across the floor — 
in defiance of all rules — and flinging her arms 
around the knees of a quiet, placid looking lady. 


THE ARRIVAL AND RECEPTION. 


13 


who sat by a table overlooking the little workers, 
she cried, “ O, Miss Peace, Mis-s Peace, Pm the 
one ! O, O, O, Miss Peace !” 

Here she was seized with a hysterical fit of sob- 
bing. Miss Peace put her arms around her, 
smoothed her hair tenderly, kissed her and did all 
she could to soothe her; the sobs grew louder — 
this would not do. Miss Peace put her from her, 
saying mildly but firmly : 

“ Thee. knew the time would come ; I have told 
thee often, to prepare thyself for it, and now th ee 
knows better than to make the parting harder — 
and to make me feel worse by thy tears !’’ 

“ O, Miss Peace, I never thought they would 
take me, because I ain’t strong, and the other girls 
are larger and can work better — I can’t leave 
youT 

Here Miss Cynthia’s voice was heard at the foot 
of the staircase, crying, “ Come down ! you Violet ! 
what are you stopping so long for?” 

“ This will never d6,” said Miss Peace, firmly; 
“thee knows I have always loved thee, but there 
is another loves thee better, and that is God ! He 
has always loved thee. He always will love thee ! 
He will go with thee to-day ! and now,” she added, 
“ if thee loves me, don’t cry any more ! thee will 
want to bid thy playmate goodby — Here Liz- 
zie,” she said, addressing a black eyed, bold look- 
ing girl, “ come this way !” 

Violet kissed her. Miss Peace took her hand 
and led her into the entry. 


14 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“ I am glad, Violet, that you are to leave your 
friend, Lizzie ; you may think this hard — but I 
feel she is not one who will make you any better. 
It grieves me,” she added, “ that I have not 
been allowed to teach you to read and that 3^011 
only know your letters ; but perhaps the lady you 
live with, will instruct 3"OU, and now goodb}^” 
and giving her her little bundle of clothes and 
kissing her tenderly, she entered the work-room 
quickly, as if fearing to give wa}^ to her feelings. 

Violet hurried down ; Miss Sally seized her 
hand, and giving Miss Cynthia and her friend a 
stiff and rather disdainful nod, she left the build- 
ing and bent her course down the street towards 
the depot. 


THE JOURNEY AND RETURN. 


15 


CHAPTER II. 

THE JOURNEY AND RETURN. 

“ To dwell in peace with home affections bound, 
To know the sweetness of a mother’s voice, 
To feel the spirit of her love around, 

And in the blessing of her age rejoice, — 

No more ! ” 



ALKING as fast as they could, they 
came in sight of the depot. Miss 
Sally slackened her pace and turning 
suddenly to Violet, said : 

“ What’s them red eyes for? I’m 
sure I don’t know, you’ve just left the Poor House 
and you’re going to live in a genteel family, with 
me and my brother. Captain Peter ; I should think 
you’d jump for joy instead of crying your eyes as 
red as a rooster’s.” 

Having made this speech, which seemed to her 
the philosoph}^ suited to the occasion, she hurried 
the child forward to the depot ; rushing up to the 
ticket office she bought a ticket for herself, and 
then stepped into the cars followed by Violet. 

The exceeding beauty of the little girl attracted 
attention as they passed to their seats ; and an old 
sea captain, who sat behind them, could not help 
asking of Miss Sally, “ Is that your child, ma’am ? ” 


i6 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“ My child !” cried she, “ I’m a single woman !” 
and frowning severely on him, she turned square 
round, as if to avoid all questions. 

The little girl forgot for a time her grief. She 
had never ridden in the cars before ; she saw there 
were no horses, and wondered who was dragging 
them, but she did not dare ask her companion. 

On they went through the thick woods : pine 
and spruce waved their graceful branches, dressed 
in their robes of shining green ; the same green 
robes in which they had danced at Summer’s Ball, 
nodding and bowing, shaking out their scented 
garments over the moss carpeted rocks ; — the same 
green robes in which they had stood alone bravely 
meeting the winter storm, when they bowed and 
bent, and writhed and twisted, heedless of wind 
and sleet, if they could only repeat the message 
with which they were charged, saying to all who 
saw them, “ There is no real death ! beneath the 
deep, cold snow, beauty, bloom, life are folded up 
in earth’s safe keeping ; she will not send them 
forth, until we, the sentinels of this icy prison, 
send over our little wire-like roots, the message 
that all is ready !” 

On they flew — the child watched the showers 
of thick, red sparks as they fell in the deepening 
twilight, among the smoky grass, like little fox 
berries nestling on the earth, or as they spread 
among the darkened outline of the trees, mimic- 
ing the ash berries or the antlered branches of the 
sum^c; this pleased her for some time. Soon 


THE JOURNEY AND RETURN. 


17 


lights appeared in the little houses on the road- 
sides, on the hills, or twinkled afar off in the fields. 

“ Those are happy homes,” thought Violet, 
“ there are children there, clustering round the 
supper tables ; they all have mothers who will give 
them their food, talk to them and play with them 
all the evening, hear them say their prayers and 
put them to bed, and I — I have no one to love 
me!” 

The cars stopped at the different stations ; at one 
of them a party of four children got out : as they 
passed, Violet heard one of them say : 

“Look! there’s our house and there’s mother 
at the door with a light !” 

Then a gentleman went out with a little girl and 
she was saying, “I want to see mamma!” He 
answered, “You shall see her soon — mother’s 
waiting for you.” 

Poor Violet ! this was too much — she burst into 
tears ! 

Just then a voice was heard to sa}^ “ Tickets ! 
tickets !” Miss Sally handed hers. 

“ Where’s her ticket” said the man pointing at 
Violet. 

“ You ain’t going to charge for her?” 

“ Certainly, thirty-seven and a half cents.” 

Miss Sally fumbled a long while, and then, from 
some deep abyss in her bright flowered gown, pro- 
duced a stocking foot, that served her instead of a 
purse, filled with small pieces of money. She 
counted them deliberately. 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“There’s ten and ten is twenty and five is 
twenty-five, and five is thirty, and five more is 
thirty-five and one is thirty-six and one is thirty- 
seven, and I aint got any half cent.” 

The conductor laughed and passed on. 

“There,” said Miss Sally, “remember that I 
paid money for you ; if anybody asks what I’ve 
done for you, remember that ! ” 

“What!” exclaimed she, turning to the child, 
“ crying again. I’m sure I don’t know what you’re 
crying for — but I won’t have it, I won’t have it I” 
Fear of her companion stopped Violet’s tears ; 
she turned her head partly away, but occasionally 
cast cautious looks at her. 

“Must I live with this ugly, cross woman?” 
thought she ; then she contrasted her bright, flam- 
ing gown, corkscrew curls, sharp features and 
ugly expression, with Miss Peace, wearing her 
dove-colored dress and neat, white collar, her 
soft, brown eyes and smooth, shining hair, her 
sweet, loving looks — then she remembered what 
she had told her, “ that God loved her and always 
would love her ; ” and that when Miss Peace told 
her about God, she thought that He must have 
brown eyes and look like her. 

Then she felt comforted; “Who knows,” con- 
tinued she to herself, “ but Captain Peter may be 
different from Miss Sally, he may love me !” 

Miss Sally had said she didn’t know what Violet 
was crying for; to do her justice, she didn’t; for 
she had been one of those persons who never 


THE JOURNEY AND RETURN. 


19 


knew a childhood, that is, never had any childish 
feelings ; she had never been afraid in the dark, 
never been enraptured with a plaything, never 
spent her time in happy idleness. As she sat at 
the child’s side she now and then looked at her. 

“Well, I don’t know,” soliloquized she, “but 
what I’ve made a mistake in taking that cr}^ baby, 
instead of one of them strong-looking girls ; but I 
wouldn’t go back with her and let that Miss Cyn- 
thia know it for the world — I must make the best 
of her now I’ve got her ; she^s got to work, and 
she’s got to leave off crying for nothing.” 

As she arrived at this conclusion, the cars 
stopped. “ Come,” said Miss Sally, turning to 
Violet, “ take 3'our bundle and follow me as fast 
as you can ; we’ve got to Chester, and I’m anxious 
to get home, for my brother. Captain Peter, will be 
expecting me.” They hurried down the main 
street, then entered a shady lane and at last came 
to an old house at the end of it. 

Miss Sally ran up to the door and shook it \ 
steps were heard ; it was opened, a little black 
eyed girl appeared with a candle in her hand and 
looking very sleepy. “ O, Miss Sally,” she com- 
menced, “ Gobbler” — She had no time to finish, 
for Miss Sally seized the candle and snatching a 
little sun bonnet from a nail near the door, gave 
the child a push that sent her tumbling over the 
doorstep upon the gravel in front of it. 

“ Gobbler ! you dare speak of my brother. Cap- 
tain Peter, so again !” and she slammed the door 


20 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


to, and beckoning Violet to follow, they went into 
the kitchen. It was a dark, smoky-looking room : 
beams crossed the ceiling and filled the corners ; 
old, patched curtains flapped at the windows, that 
rattled with every breeze ; an aged settle stood 
beside the fire, on which lay a maltese cat ; a 
bureau was between the two front windows, over 
it was an old fashioned, oval mirror, crowned with 
some peacock’s feathers ; a few hard, stiff chairs 
and a table completed the furniture with one 
exception — this exception was something that 
attracted Violet’s attention as soon as she entered ; 
this something was a large chair on wheels, the 
back of it made to let down, forming a narrow 
couch ; on this, lying on his back, was a person 
who, from his large head covered with black, 
shaggy hair, and his black beard, appeared to be 
a man ; but the tiny hands and diminutive arms 
stretched out over the coverlid seemed to contra- 
dict it. He was asleep and his loud snoring 
resounded through the room. 

Miss Sally walked to him lightly and kissed 
him on the forehead. 

“Captain Peter’s asleep,” said she, “so much 
the better, I shall have time to get his supper before 
he wakes up.” 

She went into the entry and hung her bonnet on a 
nail, then called to the child, “ Here, Violet, put 
your bundle on the bureau, and come and hang 
your shawl and shaker here.” 


THE JOURNEY AND RETURN. 


21 


When this was done, and the child had seated 
herself on one of the chairs, Miss Sally opened a 
closet door, took out a cold chicken, cut some 
slices from the breast, and laid them on a plate ; 
then she stepped into the pantry adjoining and 
returned with a spider containing a slice of fat 
pork ; raking out the coals she placed the spider 
on them, preparatory towarming the chicken. 

At this moment a pounding of little fists was 
heard on the door, and a little voice cried out, 
“ Miss Sally, Miss Sally ! I want my cents I Miss 
Sal-ly !” 

“ O, dear,” exclaimed Miss Sally, “ there's that 
ugly child out there now; what do you want?” 
continued she going to the door. 

“I want my money you said you’d give me!” 
returned the voice. 

“ Your money I” retorted Miss Sally, “don’t 
call it yours till you get it I” then producing the 
stocking purse she took out five cents, opening the 
door with a sudden jerk, that pulled the little girl, 
who was leaning against it, flat on the floor ; 
which seemed to please Miss Sally mightily ; she 
threw out the coppers, saying, “ There it is, make 
much of it I” 

Shutting the door, she went back to her cook- 
ing. 

Another pounding of little flsts interrupted her, 
and the same little voice with a dolorous accent 
was heard. 

“ Miss Sally ; I can’t find it !” 


22 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE, 


“ That girl will be the death of me,” said the 
spinster ; opening the pantry door she took down a 
lantern, lighted it and addressing Violet, said, 
“ Here, you may take this, and stand on the door- 
step till she’s found it, and then tell her to go home. 
Stop a minute,” added she, as Violet rose, “ I’ll 
speak to her first. Now,” cried she, through the 
key-hole, “ you Kitty !” 

“ Ma’am ?” in a subdued voice. 

“ Will you remember not to call Captain Peter, 
Gobbler, again ?” 

“ Ye-es ma’am.” 

“Well, you’d better! now Violet” — and the 
child went out and stood on the door-step. 

“ Here,” said Violet, “ Miss Sally told me to 
hold the light for you, and tell you when you’d 
found your cents, to go home.” 

“ She’s a cross, ugly, old woman,” said the little 
girl sobbing, “ and she needn’t have told me to go 
home, for I shall go as fast as my legs will carry 
me, when I’ve found them — but I can’t find them.” 

“Yes, you can,” said Violet, “ I’ll help you ; 
there’s one,” she continued, picking it up on the 
door-step, “ and I see another under that leaf” — 

“And there’s another, and that’s three,” ex- 
claimed the little girl ; then she whispered to Violet, 
as if fearful of Miss Sally’s hearing, “ Have you 
come to live with her?” pointing towards the house. 

“ Yes,” replied Violet. 

“Well, I pity you,” said Kitty. 



“ Captain Peter Enjoyed Her Cooking. 








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THE JOURNEY AND RETURN 


23 


“There’s the other two,” cried Violet, “and I 
must run into the house, for I’m afraid of her !” 

“ Well, I ain’t, one mite,” exclaimed Kitty, 
who was very brave, when out of Miss Sally’s 
presence. 

“ Don’t,” said Violet, “ I’m afraid she’ll hear 
you ! goodby, Kitty.” 

“ Goodby,” said Kitty, “ I don’t know your name, 
little girl.” 

“ My name is Violet,” answered the child, and 
she re-entered the house. 

Captain Peter was by this time awake, and sat 
up in his chair, arrayed in all the glory of a red 
dressing gown and red cap ; Miss Sally had drawn 
the chair up before the table, and sat watching him 
as he did ample justice to her cookery. 

Violet saw the reason that Kitty had called him 
Gobbler, — for he gobbled up his food in a very 
expeditious and noisy manner, using his little 
hands when Miss Sally’s eye was not on him, to 
cram his mouth full, and making a loud noise 
whenever he drank. He took no notice of Violet. 
Miss Sally handed her a thick slice of bread and a 
mug of milk, saying : 

“ Ton can sit on the settle and Qdit. your supper, 
and you, old Grey,” addressing the cat, “ can go 
out into the woodshed.” 

“What’s her name?” asked Violet. 

“ Lady Jane Grey,” replied Miss Sally, “ and 
now finish up your supper, and listen to what I say 


24 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


— I took you to live with me to work, I work all 
the time, and you’ve got to, so you can make up 
your mind to do it — you’re to mind everything I 
say, if you don’t there’s a graveyard back of the 
house, and it’s full of spirits in the night, and if you 
don’t mind. I’ll call ’em to carry you off.” 

Violet heard her, half dead with fear. 

“ Now,” continued Miss Sally, taking up the 
candle, “ I’ll show you your bed, you can take 
hold of the banisters and feel your way up, for 
you’ll have to go up in the dark after this'".” 

They went up two flights of stairs and reached 
the entrance of the garret. “There’s a line,” 
said Miss Sally, “ take hold of it and walk to the 
end of the garret and you’ll find your bed — and 
remember you’re to be up at the first peep of light.” 

Then she left her and went down. 

The rays of the candle grew fainter and disap- 
peared, ^nd Violet was left alone in the great 
gloomy garret. By the faint light of the candle 
she had caught a glimpse of it ; lines of clothes 
hung across, seeming to her excited imagination 
like huge spectres shaking their long arms at her ; 
festoons of spiders’ webs hung and floated from 
the beams. 

“ These,” she thought, “ are full of great black 
and yellow spiders, and they’ll crawl all over 
the bed but the thought of the spiders did not 
alarm her as much as that of the spirits. 
“ What if they should rise up out of the graveyard 
and come up here !” she stood for some moments 


THE JOURNEY AND RETURN 


25 


almost paralyzed with fear, — at last she roused her- 
self, and taking off her clothes, crept into the little 
bed. She thought of Miss Peace and tried to say 
her prayers, but the thought and the prayer failed 
to comfort her. She heard the old beams cracking ; 
and an old Balm of Gilead tree behind the house 
beat on the roof and sighed and rustled in the 
wind. 

“All the noises come from the graveyard,” 
whispered Violet to herself, “ those are the spirits !” 

She lay trembling, when she heard steps round 
the garret — 

“ O, mercy, mercy,” sobbed she, “ there’s one 
coming to carry me off!” 

Fear of her dread mistress, kept her silent; 
nearer and nearer came the steps, they approached 
the bed — Violet drew her head under the bed 
clothes and held them tightly with one hand ; 
something jumped on the bed — the child was 
almost fainting, when she felt soft fur rubbing 
against the hand that was outside the quilt — what 
a relief I — 

“ Poor old Grazy,” said Violet putting down the 
quilt, “ is thatyou? Oh, you beauty, come in here,” 
and taking her in her arms, she talked to and 
caressed her, until comforted, she fell asleep. 

That which the thought of Miss Peace and the 
prayer could not do, was accomplished by this 
dumb animal. Poor Human Nature ! ever seek- 
ing companionship ! who shall despise the little 
things, the instruments, animate or inanimate, that 


26 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


minister to and comfort thee, amid the fears and 
despondencies of this life? The heart that cannot 
reach, cannot attain unto the Infinite, finds the 
connecting links in the great chain that binds it to 
its Heavenly Father, be they ever so small ! 


THE SEXTO N-'S FAMILY. 


27 


CHAPTER III. 


THE SEXTON’S FAMILY. 


“ Intemperance still with its magic chain 
Binds down the weak and the strong.” 

‘ ‘ They are like demons who would bring 
The nectar that might tempt to sip ! ” 



T the end of the grassy lane leading to 
Miss Sally’s house was a small cot- 
tage ; the roof, overgrown with mosses 
and lichens sloping down to the tops 
of the diamond-paned windows that were half 
hidden with climbing vines, woodbines and honey- 
suckles, presented the appearance of a large moss 
basket ; in front of the windows was a row of 
rose bushes and lilacs, while a neat border of 
pinks separated them from the grass. 

This was the dwelling of Ben Coplin, the sex- 
ton of the village. 

The morning after the incidents we have related, 
the sun was just rising, when Christopher, or Kris 
as he was commonly called (the sexton’s son), 
rose, crept softly down the stairs, made a fire and 
prepared to get breakfast. “ Mother’s tired,” 
said he to himself, “ and I’ll get breakfast and 
surprise her.” 



28 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


Then he set about it as handy as a woman. He 
made the fire burn clear, filled the tea-kettle and 
hung it over the blaze ; then he pulled out the 
little table, covered it with a white cloth, brought 
from the closet a tray containing the cups and 
saucers, the milk pitcher, the sugar bowl, knives, 
plates, forks and spoons. He put the plates round 
the table with a knife and fork at each plate ; then 
taking out a large loaf from the closet, he cut it in 
slices and toasted it before the fire. The tea-kettle 
boiled by this time, and taking the coffee pot, that 
his mother’s hand had prepared the night before, 
he filled it and set it on the coals. 

Someone came lightly down the stairs, it was 
his mother, a pale, care-worn woman who had 
just risen. “ O, Kris, you’re a good, kind boy — 
but you needn’t have done it ; you’d better have 
been taking a run down the lane and getting a 
little color into your cheeks.” 

“ Well, I think, mother,” replied Kris, “ that 
you need sleep and rest, as much as you say I 
need exercise.” 

“ Look, Kris !” exclaimed his mother, turning 
to the window, “ there’s your father coming home, 
the same way he was when he went to the 
graveyard to watch last time ! now you mind not 
contradict him (you know his temper when he’s 
so), and Kitty,” cried she, running to the staircase, 
“come down quick! now Kitty,” addressing the 
same little girl, who we last saw at Miss Sally’s, 
“ your father’s coming in, and be careful you don’t 


THE SEXTON'' S FAMILY. 


29 


say no to him, and plague him” — “ I see him,” 
said Kitty, who was six years old, “ O, how funny 
he looks, first running on one side, then on the 
other, O, mother don’t he look funny?” 

“ Be still, Kitty,” replied her mother, who was 
anxious to hide from her the real cause, “ your 
poor father’s sick.” 

“ Poor father,” cried Kitty, as he came reeling 
up to the door. 

“ Who calls me poor?” screamed the sexton, 
“ I ain’t poor. I’m a King, I’m one of the Genii ! 
now mother,” said he, approaching her in a confi- 
dential manner, but speaking so all the family 
could hear him, “ I’ve got some, hie, hie, some 
news for you ! (this news had been repeated for the 
fiftieth time) I went up to the grave-yard, you 
know, hie, hie, to watch ; and after I’d been watch- 
ing some time, hie, hie, you know, I was rather 
dry and Miss Sally brought me some of her 
sweetened water, and after I drank hie, hie, I fell, 
asleep, and a great Genius came to me, and says 
he, hie, hie, ‘ Ben,’ says he, ‘ I’ll make you one 
of us, one of the Genii !’ of course I was glad, hie, 
hie, to be taken into the order.” 

By way of parenthesis we would state that Ben 
had been a great admirer of the Arabian Nights, 
when a lad, and whenever he had drank, the old 
stories revived in his mind. 

The sexton continued, “ ‘ Ben,’ says he, hie, hie, 
hie, ‘ you’ve got a wonderful lamp at home, it s just 
like Aladdin’s, and you’ve only to rub it in a cer- 


30 


A STRAl^GE DISCLOSURE. 


tain spot,’ jest listen, mother, ‘ and you can call for 
whatever you want,’ now guess, all of you which 
lamp ’tis,” — 

“ I guess,” said Kitty, “ it’s the great one in the 
parlor, with the shade on it.” 

Ben looked at the others, but they appeared 
more like crying than interpreting his drunken 
dreams,— so he answered Kitty, “ No, not that 
one, you little fool you, hie, hie, don’t you, hie, 
hie, remember that the pedler went round and 
bought up all the lamps, and he didn’t care a bit 
for any but the old one, that was the magic one? 
and it aint any, hie, hie, but that little, old brass 
one on the mantel piece,. so hand it down, Kitty.” 

“ I can’t reach it,” she replied. 

“ Well, you hand it, mother.” 

Mrs. Coplin complied, and Ben taking it into 
his hand in a very knowing manner, said, “ But I 
haven’t, hie, hie, told you all — the Genii showed 
me a lamp just like this, and that’s how I knowed 
it was this, and says he, hie, hie, ‘ Ben,’ says he, 
* just rub it where the dent is, and say over what 
I tell you, and wish,’ and I did, — and, hie, hie, as 
it was about time to be thinking of something to 
eat, I rubbed it and said the words after him, and 
wished I might, hie, hie, find a good breakfast 
when I came home, and here’s the breakfast jest 
as I wished, good strong coffee, and a plate of 
nice, toasted bread ; and now I want you to wish,” 
continued he, “ come, mother, come, Kris.” 


THE SEXTON'' S FAMILY. 


3 


“ Let me wish first/’ said Kitty, “ I wish I had 
a great big wax doll with curly hair and eyes that’ll 
move, and a pink gown on, covered with lace — ” 

“ Well,” says he, hie hie, “ now we’ll see — a 
wax doll, eh?” and he began rubbing the lamp with 
great energy, saying at the same time, “ Ade — Aide, 
hie, hie. Addle — de — ” he continued rubbing and 
repeating, the great drops of perspiration rolling 
from his forehead, — 

“ Well,” exclaimed he at last, “ I’m dumb 
foundered if I ain’t forgotten the words. Well 
now, Ben,” he continued, addressing himself, 
“ vou’re one big fool to forget ’em, but the only 
thing you can do is to eat your breakfast, then go 
take your nap and p’raps the Genii’ll come again 
and tell ’em to you.” Then he drew his chair up 
to the table. The others followed his example — 
but it was easy to see that Mrs. Coplin and Kris 
had no appetites, though they tried to make a show 
of eating. 

Kitty sat without tasting the food, but it was not 
from want of appetite. At last she burst out cry- 
ing. “Well, Kit, what’s the matter now?” said 
her father. “ I want my doll you said you’d give 
me !” cried Kitty. 

“ O, well, don’t blubber,” said he, “ when I see 
the Genii again. I’ll ask him for the words, and 
then you shall have it — now,” continued he, ris- 
ing and reeling to and fro, “ lend us your arm Kris, 
and we’ll get up stairs ” — 

Kris assisted him up, he tumbled on the bed 
without undressing. Kris came down and found 


32 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


his mother washing the dishes, her tears falling 
into the basin. 

“ O, Kris,” said she, “ my thoughts are very 
bitter, almost too much so, for one that’s always 
tried to follow in the Master’s footsteps, — but that 
wicked Miss Sally with her pretended sweetened 
water getting my Ben drunk — it’s too much — 
and what she does it for is a mystery — and if 
father goes to sleep up there, instead of watching. 
I’m afraid he’ll lose his place, and then what shall 
we do?” 

Kitty who had been sitting looking very unhappy 
with her face turned to the window, now moved 
round hastily and said, Miss Sally told me to 
come up there this morning.” 

“ So she did,” resumed Mrs. Coplin, “ I hate to 
have you go, but your father won’t like it if you 
don’t, that Miss Sally’s got such an influence over 
him ; but what does she want this morning?” 

“ O,” said Kitty, “ she wants me to go and 
show the little girl she’s got, her washing places — 
You know the little girl she brought home last 
night.” 

“ What did you say her name was?” asked Mrs. 
Coplin. 

“Violet’s her first name,” said Kitty. 

“ What’s her other?” asked her mother. 

“ I don’t know,” replied Kitty, “ I guess I’ll ask 
her.” 

“ Well, put on 3^our things and run along,” said 
her mother. 


M/SS SALLY'S PATRONS. 


33 


CHAPTER IV. 

MISS SALLY’S PATRONS. 

‘ ‘ Daily struggling, though unloved and lovely, 

Every day a rich reward will give 

will now return to Violet, With the 
first gleam of light she awoke, dressed 
herself and said her prayer, then 
she took Lady Jane, who was still 
cuddled up in bed, carried her to the top 
of the stairs and gave her a gentle push, saying 
“ Run down, Grazy, as soft as you can, for if Miss 
Sally knew you were my bed-fellow, I know she’d 
keep you down stairs, and take away the only com- 
fort I have !” Grazy crept down as softly as Violet 
could wish. Then she looked round the garret; 
there was an old, cracked looking-glass hung over 
a table, and by this she combed out her curls. She 
had a small pocket comb that Miss Peace had 
given her, and the sight of it brought her kind 
friend to her mind and all her sorrowful feelings — 
the thought that Captain Peter might love her, had 
comforted her on her journey, and when she saw 
that he was deformed and appeared to be an idiot, 
like those she had seen in the workhouse, no 
wonder she felt that Lady Jane was the only friend 
she had. 



34 


A STRAISTGE DISCLOSURE. 


There was no time, however, as she well knew, 
to be sad, so she descended the stairs, and went 
out into the woodhouse ; while she was washing 
her face. Miss Sally entered softly, and the first 
thing the child knew a sharp voice rung in her 
ears, making her jump half across the floor. 

“ So you’ve made out to get up as I told you ; 
if you hadn’t you’d have got it ! Now take some 
wood out of that closet and build a fire, then go 
to the well and bring a bucket of water, put the 
tea-kettle on the hearth and fill it, hang it over and 
make it boil, then cut the bread up and toast it — 
then set the table.” 

Captain Peter was by this time awake, making 
hideous noises, seemingly overjoyed at seeing Miss 
Sally. 

The child looked back with a startled expres- 
sion and saw Miss Sally raising up his couch, 
restoring it to its shape as an easy chair, taking 
Captain Peter in her arms, as if he had been a 
baby — shaking up the cushions; — then she took 
off his flannel night drevSS and put on his scarlet 
dressing gown ; she bathed his face, combed his 
hair, brushing it up on his forehead to make him 
look as manly as possible. 

The child had no time to observe farther, but 
she could not help thinking, as she went to bring 
the wood, that Miss Sally must love the ugly, mis- 
shapen creature, to take such pains with his toilet. 

She laid the wood on the fire, and puffed and 
blew a long time to ignite the few coals that 
remained, but in vain. 


MISS SALLY'S PATRONS. 


35 


“ Get out of the way,” said Miss Sally, at last, 
“you don’t know no more about making a fire 
than a fool ! and them curls dangling — if it w'ant 
for one thing. I’d cut ’em off pretty quick — and 
that is you wouldn’t be so strong ; my Bible says, 
Samson lost all his strength when his hair was 
cut off, and I believe it ; now look on and see how to 
make a fire ! put the sticks so, and so, that the air 
can draw, rake the coals underneath the ends, put 
a bit of kindling under and blow it — I declare 
you’re so unhandy that I’ve a great mind to carry 
you back — if it wasn’t for that Miss Cynthia, I 
would.” 

“ O, do carry me back,” exclaimed Violet, her 
eyes lighting up with joy, — “ do carry me back to 
Miss Peace !” 

“ Carry you back, indeed,” retorted Miss Sally, 
“ you ungrateful creature, you’d rather go back to 
the workhouse than live in a genteel family ! I 
really believe you’re pretending you can’t work so 
as to go back — but you shan’t go ! and you’ve got 
to work — so now do as I tell you quick !” 

Violet checked a sigh and under Miss Sally’s 
directions breakfast was prepared, not without a 
good deal of scolding and many harsh words. 
Violet was given a slice of dry bread and a mug of 
milk ; while Miss Sally sat at the table with Cap- 
tain Peter, for whom it would seem nothing was 
too good ; his fragrant coffee was steaming hot, 
his buttered toast and a plate of oysters looked very 
inviting. Miss Sally partook of the coffee ; but 


36 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


her toast was eaten dry, and she did not taste of 
the oysters. 

After the meal was finished, Violet washed the 
dishes under Miss Sally’s superintendence, put 
each piece carefully on the tray and carried it into 
the closet ; then she swept the floor and hearth ; 
while she was washing the latter, Kitty entered. 

“ Now, Violet,” said Miss Sally, “ put on your 
bonnet, and make yourself ready to go with her ; 
she will show you where you’ve got to go after the 
clothes I wash ; take this clothes basket, and you’re 
to remember, Kitty, what I say, you’re to show 
her Mrs. Truepenny’s and Squire Hunting’s on the 
way, but you’re not to stop there ; but to keep on 
till you get to Parson Gossper’s and take his 
clothes ; and, if you see him, mind both of you and 
make a curtse}" — when you get the clothes fix 
them into the bas’ket so they won’t fall out in the 
mud ; and remember Violet’s to carry the basket 
and bring it back.” 

The two children set out together ; Kitty buoy- 
ant, frolicsome, as though she enjoyed it highly ; 
Violet sad, thoughtful beyond her years, feeling 
that a hard life had commenced ; still the fresh, 
morning air, the pleasant sunshine, the sweet fra- 
grance from fields and hedges filled her heart with 
something like a quiet joy. They passed out of the 
garden, when Violet looking up the road opposite 
to Miss Sally’s, spied a large, brick building. 

“ What’s that house,” she inquired. 

“ That !” said Kitty, “ that’s a school.” 


MISS SALLY'S PATRONS. 


37 


“ A school !” said Violet, “ how I should like to 
go!” 

“ O,” said Kitty, “ it isn’t for such as you and 
me, it’s for young men.” “ Where do you go to 
school, Kitty?” 

“ Me? O, I go to Miss Beatem’s, and my Kris 
goes there too, and he’s the first scholar in the 
school I you don’t know my Kris, do you?” 

“ No,” said Violet. 

“Well, he’s seen you — he saw you at the 
depot, when you came in, and he says you’re a 
beauty, and you look just like the picture of an 
angel that’s on the first page of his Bible !” 

“ O,” exclaimed Violet, “don’t talk so; Miss 
Penniman always said, ‘ handsome is that hand- 
some does,’ and I’m afraid I don’t always do as I 
ought.” 

“ O, see that hay-field !” cried Kitty, “ I’d like 
to go and tumble in it all the morning.” 

“ So should I,” said Violet, “but Miss Sally 
says that I’ve got to work all the time.” 

“She’s an ugly, old thing,” cried Kitty, “and 
I wouldn’t mind her. I’d stop and play whenever I 
got a chance.” 

They had reached by this time the end of the 
lane, and passed into the main street ; Kitty 
stopped before a small variety store ; the windows 
were adorned with penny songs, cheap pictures, 
wooden dolls, tin plates, crockery, etc. 

“ This,” said Kitty, “ is Mrs. Truepenny’s ; look 
in the window and you’ll see her.” 


38 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


Violet peeped in and saw a fat, rosy-cheeked, 
good natured looking woman arranging her wares. 

“ How pleasant she looks,” said she. 

“Yes! ’’said Kitty, “she’s real good natured. 
But we must hurry along.” They came opposite 
a grand looking house, with high, stone steps in 
front — a green lawn bordered with tall pine trees 
spread before it, while a handsome iron fence sep- 
arated it from the road. 

“ That,” said Kitty, “ is Squire Hunting’s.” 

“ What a fine looking place,” said Violet. 

“ Yes,” said Kitty, “ but Miss Alice is a proud 
thing, and she despises poor folks like you and 
me.” 

They went on talking, until they reached the 
end of a long street; there at the foot of a hill, in 
front of high, grey rocks that rose sternly behind 
it was a brown house, and this was the parsonage. 

Bare and desolate was it in appearance. 

Kitty led her friend to the back door and 
knocked. They waited some time, then they 
heard a rusty bolt drawn, and an old woman 
opened the door a small crack, and looked through ; 
having satisfied herself who the visitors were, she 
opened it wider. 

“ Miss Skillings 1” screamed Kitty, for the old 
woman was deaf, “ here’s the little girl Miss Sally 
took, come after the clothes I” 

“What!” cried the old woman, “Miss Sally 
coming after the clothes ! I don’t believe a word 
of it, she never did !” 


M/SS SALLY'S PATRONS. 


39 


“ No ! No !” screamed Kitty in a louder tone, 
“ Miss Sally’s girl has come after them !” 

“Miss Sally’s girl come after ’em?” repeated 
she. 

“ Yes,” said Kitty, “ I ain’t coming any more, — 
she’s got a girl now — ” 

“ She’s got a girl now,” repeated the old 
woman. 

“ Yes,” said Kitty, “ her name’s Violet.” 

“ Her name’s Violet,” echoed the housekeeper, 
“yes, her name’s Violet. Well,” continued 
she (the facts at last finding entrance into her 
mind), “ come in !” 

They entered the kitchen ; very bare it looked ; 
a few pieces of furniture that were actually neces- 
sary, were there ; a cupboard in the corner showed 
that the crockery corresponded to the furniture ; 
just enough for necessity, no more. 

The old woman took down a canvas bag from a 
nail and emptied the contents on the floor ; then 
she picked up each article carefully and packed it 
in Violet’s basket. “ Now,” said she, “ don’t drop 
them in the mud.” 

She saw them out; they heard her draw the 
rusty bolt behind them. On the way back Kitty 
insisted on carrying the basket nearly all the way. 
They separated at Kitty’s house. When Violet 
reached home it was dinner time. Miss Sally had 
prepared some nice bits for Captain Peter ; Violet 
was given a small piece of cold meat and a mug 
of water, on her old dining place, the settle. 


3 


40 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


After she had washed the dishes, Miss Sally 
emptied the basket and dispatched her to Squire 
Hunting’s. As Violet drew near the house she 
walked slowly and with great trepidation ; the 
idea of going into the great house alone troubled 
her. When she reached the gate a huge mastiff, 
which was walking round the yard, barked loudly. 
Violet retreated from the gate — there she stood 
with her basket, irresolute, wanting courage to 
enter — afraid to return. 

“ If I only dared to go up to the front door,” 
thought she. At last the fear of Miss Sally over- 
came all other fears, and she went slowly up the 
great stone steps ; the dog in the yard barked 
louder than ever. She rang the bell ; a smart, 
important waiting woman came, followed by a 
little girl of about Violet’s age, dressed in the 
extreme of the fashion. 

“ How’s this?” cried the woman, “ here at the 
front door with a basket begging !” 

“Go away! little beggar!” said the little girl 
behind. 

“ I ain’t a beggar !” said Violet, “ Miss Sally 
sent me after the clothes.” 

“Why didn’t you go to the back door?” cried 
the woman, angrily. 

“ I was afraid of the dog,” sobbed Violet. 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” said the 
woman, “Watch! Watch! go back to 3^our 
kennel!” she screamed. The dog obeyed. “ Now 
go round to the back door, and don’t you come 
round here again, dog or no dog !” 


MISS SALIVAS PATRONS. 


41 


“ No,” cried Miss Alice, for it was she, “ don’t 
come here ! my ma has her callers at this door.” 

Poor Violet went down the long steps, crying, 
made her way by the dog in fear and trembling, 
received the clothes — repassed the dog — expect- 
ing every moment that he would fly at her, and 
went home as fast as she could. 

“ Now,” said Miss Sally, “ go to Mrs. Truepen- 
ny’s store and ask her for Mr. Van Zeffer’s 
clothes, and here’s ten cents to buy a sponge cake 
for Captain Peter’s supper ; and here’s a bundle 
handkerchief to cover over the clothes ; you can put 
the cake wrapped up in paper on the top and go 
fast.” 

“ I can’t go fast. Pm tired !” said Violet. 

“ Don’t tell me you’re tired,” cried Miss Sally, 
“go !” 

Violet went out, she had been walking nearly 
all day — she could hardly drag along. 

At last she reached the shop; the little bell 
gave a merry tinkle as she opened the door. 

Mrs. Truepenny bustled in, rosy and smiling. 
“ Well dear, what do you want?” 

“Miss Sally sent me after the clothes.” 

“ O, you’re the little girl Miss Sally’s took, 
you’re a pretty creetur ; but you don’t look strong 
enough to work; you’re just about my Jennie’s 
age (a sweet voice was heard carolling a song in 
the back room) ; that’s my Jennie singing — she’s 
blind, poor girl! but then she’s always happy; 
she likes to sing, and Mr. Van Zeffer has taken 


42 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


pains to teach her. But,” added she, “ have you 
been way up to Parson Gossper’s to-day?” 

“ Yes, ma’am,” said Violet. 

“ Poor child,” said the kind woman, “ go right 
into the back room, and sit down and rest yourself 
on the sofa.” 

“ Pm afraid to stop,” said Violet. 

“ You needn’t be — you tell Miss Sally I hadn’t 
got the clothes ready — for I shan’t have ’em ready 
till I see fit, and she can blame me, if she wants to 
blame anybody ! here’s a nice cake for you, and 
you go set down by Jennie and eat it.” 

Entering the back room Violet saw a little girl 
sitting on the sofa, knitting and singing ; her face 
was transparent in its whiteness, but relieved by 
cheeks of a faint tint, like the hue of an ocean 
shell ; her flaxen hair waved round a broad fore- 
head ; her large, blue- eyes gave no token of want 
of sight, they turned towards the door as Violet 
went in, the song ceased, and a sweet voice 
inquired, “ Who’s that, mother?” 

“ What’s your name, dear?” asked Mrs. True 
penny. 

“ Violet Heath.” 

“ It’s Violet Heath, dear,” continued her mother, 
“ the little girl that’s come to live with Miss Sally,” 
and she went back into the shop. 

“ Come and sit here,” said Jennie, and taking 
Violet’s hand she moved her own over Violet’s face. 

“ I know I shall like you,” she said, “ and I 
know just how you look.” 


M/SS SALLV'S PATRONS. 


43 


“ Why, you can’t see !” exclaimed her visitor. 

“No, but I can feel;” said Jennie, “you’re 
pretty, you’ve got curly hair, you look pleasant, 
and I like you.” 

Here a bird hanging in a cage near the window 
began a series of merry quavers and trills. 

“Hear Dick !” said Jennie, “he wants me to 
sing again !” 

“ How I love to hear birds sing !” exclaimed 
Violet, “ they seem so happy, they don’t have any 
work to do all the day long.” 

“ O, yes,” interrupted Jennie, “ when they don’t 
have a good home, like my Dick, they have to fly 
round all the time to get something to eat, seeds 
and worms — and they do have to work — to build 
their nests and feed their little ones.” 

“ Here are the clothes, dear — ” said her mother 
looking in, “ I hate to have you go, but I guess 
you’d better.” 

“ Miss Sally wants a sponge cake,” said Violet. 

Mrs. Truepenny got it. “Here’s another cake 
for you, put it in your pocket, dear ; you’ll want it.” 

“ Good-by, Jennie,” said Violet. 

“Good-by,” said Jennie, “ come again as soon 
as you can.” 

Violet went home, happy in having found some- 
body that loved her. 

“Well!” cried Miss Sally, as she came in, 
“ here’s a good one, staying out all this time I I’ll 
teach you miss, to mind — you’ll have no supper 


44 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


for your tricks ! off with your things, and to 
work ! ” 

The supper table was set, with fragrant tea, hot 
biscuits, and sponge cake for Captain Peter. 

Miss Sally did not touch the cake ; to do her 
justice she did not seem to mind privation, if Cap- 
tain Peter only had something nice ; but with all 
her kind feelings for him, she had none for Violet. 
Her hungry eyes were unnoticed as she sat on the 
settle and saw him devouring the good things ; he 
seemed to understand that she could not have any 
and he smacked his lips and looked at her at every 
mouthful, as if he enjoyed it the more for that. 

When the meal was over, as Violet was wash- 
ing the dishes. Miss Sally having stepped out into 
the woodhouse, a knocking was heard at the door. 
Violet went. 

A smart, saucy, black-eyed fellow stood there, 
his short, black curls clustering round a roguish- 
looking face. 

“ Hey, rose bud, how came you here?” said he, 
chucking her under the chin. 

Violet drew back frightened. 

“ Prudish, hey? too young for that !” 

“Did you want Miss Sally?” asked Violet, 
when she had placed herself at a safe distance. 

“Yes, if you won’t have anything to say to 
me. 

Violet ran in — “Miss Sally, there’s a man 
wants you.” 


M/SS SALLY^S PATRONS. 


45 


Miss Sally went out into the entry, and closed 
the door carefully ; they held a long, whispered 
conference. 

Miss Sally came, bustled round, and looked sus- 
piciously at Violet. As the little girl passed to the 
closet to put away some of the dishes. Captain 
Peter, who had the cunning common to idiots, that 
seems to inspire them to torment something, 
watched his opportunity and seizing her curls gave 
them a violent tug. Violet screamed — Miss Sally 
turned and exclaimed — “ What are you doing to 
the Captain ?” 

“ I didn’t do anything, he pulled my hair !” said 
the child. 

“ A likely story !” cried Miss Sally — “a poor, 
harmless creature like Captain Peter — you’ve 
been doing something to him — here, take that!” 
and giving her a hard push she thrust her into 
the entry. 

“ Go along up to bed ! you’re an ugly torment. 
I’m glad to see your back turned.” 


46 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


CHAPTER V. 

MYSTERIOUS NOISES. THE OLD GRAVEYARD. 

“ Ah me ! this is a sad and silent city ; 

Let me walk softly o’er it and survey 
Its glossy streets with melancholy pity ! 

Where are its children? Where their gleesome play? 
Alas ! their cradled rest is cold and deep, — 

Their playthings are thrown by, and they asleep.” 

* * * * * * * sH'* 

“ Alas ! no flowers are here but flowers of death. 

And those who once were sweetest sleep beneath.” 


)LET lay sobbing some time on the 
stairs, where Miss Sally had pushed 
her ; at last she rose and crept tear- 
fully up to bed. 

It was not the blow that made her 
so unhappy, but the injustice in accusing her of 
hurting Captain Peter, when he was the aggressor ! 
It was the utter indifference, almost hatred, that 
Miss Sally had shown towards her. Lady Jane 
lay in the middle of the bed sound asleep. Violet 
flung her arms round her and wept bitterly. 

Then the thought of Miss Peace, that always 
came to her in her troubles, rose uppermost ; her 
words, “ God will go with you. He will be with 
you always,” came again to her, as it had often 
before. 




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MYSTERIOUS NOISES. 


47 


“ Why,” said Violet to herself, “ does God let 
Miss Sally strike me and treat me so? Why does 
Captain Peter have everything nice to eat, and I 
must go to bed without any supper?” Then she 
remembered the cake Mrs. Truepenny had given 
her — she felt for it in her pocket, found it and 
began to eat it, congratulating herself that she had 
some supper for all Miss Sally ; Lady Jane awoke 
and claimed her share. Then Violet said her 
prayer, and fell into an uneasy slumber, broken 
now and then by a faint sob ; an hour or two 
passed ; her sleep became more restless and broken, 
an indistinct sense of danger filled her mind — she 
awoke ! 

She heard the noise of footsteps in the lower 
entry creeping cautiously and stealthily round — 
then a hoarse whisper, “ Hist ! Hist ! ” 

She trembled from head to foot — big drops of 
sweat trickled down her forehead ; the noise of a 
door grating on its hinges came up through the 
entry to the listener — then all was still in the 
house. 

But the wind sighed through the cracks of the 
old garret, and brought the sound of voices. 

Violet lay awake trembling ; after some time 
the old door creaked again, steps were heard once 
more, — but this time they moved more slowly, as 
if a heavy burden was borne along — the dim rays 
of a lantern flickered and danced on the beams of 
the garret. 


48 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


Violet clutched the cat convulsively ; puss awoke ; 
the sound reached her quick ears — her hair rose 
stiffly on her back, her tail swelled to an enormous 
size, so it seemed to Violet, who could scarcely 
hold her; the steps approached the front door — 
“ O,” thought Violet, “if I only dared to go look 
over the banister ! yes, I will go, but Lady Jane 
will get away and run down, and they’ll kill her 
— no, they shant. I’ll roll her up in the bed- 
clothes.” 

She passed the clothes round and round her, 
until she felt sure she couldn’t get away ; then 
sliding out of bed, she tried to walk carefully over 
the garret; the old boards gave a faint creak — 
she stopped — the rays of the lantern glanced up 
the stair-way; she advanced, reached the banis- 
ters and looked over. She peered through the 
indistinct light — a rush of cold air came up the 
stair-way — the outer door was open — she heard 
Miss Sally’s voice saying “ to-morrow !” 

A man’s voice answered, “ To-morrow, be it 
then.” Wheels sounded in front — the door was 
softly closed — Miss Sally went into her bed- 
room. 

Violet crept back to bed ! She had lost some of 
her fear when she heard Miss Sally’s voice ; still 
her mind was filled with perplexity intermingled 
with awe and wonder. What was this going on in 
the middle of the night, in secrecy? What deal- 
ings had Miss Sally with strange men? What was 
it, she had heard carried stealthily off at the front 


MYSTERIOUS NOISES. 


49 


door? Weariness at last conquered every other 
feeling, she fell asleep. 

Morning dawned. When V'iolet descended to 
the kitchen, she found Miss Sally bustling round, 
vigorous, and wide awake, as usual, notwithstand- 
ing her midnight operations ; she was preparing to 
wash. 

Violet was made to bring bucket after bucket of 
water from the old well in the yard, to fill the 
large boiler in the back part of the chimney in the 
woodshed. After breakfast washing was com- 
menced in good earnest ; Violet was instructed 
how to first suds all the clothes, to rub hard on all 
the stains, and then turn them ; she washed till her 
arms ached, when Miss Sally, giving her a' large 
basket, said : 

“ Here, take that, the fire’s going down ; go up 
to the further corner of the grave-yard and fill it 
with bones ; you’ll see ’em sticking up all round 
where the old graves used to be.” 

Violet took the basket, went a few steps, and 
then came back. The idea of taking dead folks’ 
bones to burn frightened her. 

“ Miss Sally, what’ll the spirits do, if I get the 
bones?” 

“ Spirits !” cried Miss Sally, “ there ain’t any in 
the day time, it’s only in the night they’re there ; 
now go quick !” 

Violet went out again into the grave-yard ; nar- 
row paths intersected it, overgrown with grass ; 
indeed the only place where any bare ground was 


50 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


visible was in front of the black, wooden gate that 
was only opened in case of funerals, there being an 
entrance on each side of it with a post in the 
centre. 

There were man}^ trees planted here and there : 
Violet noticed four Balm of Gilead trees very near 
the house ; these had made the noise against the 
roof. There was one tree, a weeping willow, that 
attracted her attention though she did not know its 
name. 

“ Beautiful tree,” murmured she, “ bending over 
that little grave, letting your long, green tresses 
fall all around it to the ground, like a mother who 
watches beside her dead babe, dropping her long 
hair round it as if to guard it from all intrusion.” 

Most of the grave-stones were slate, old, quite 
thick, many overgrown with yellow and gray 
lichens, the inscriptions on some quite obliterated. 

As Violet passed along, she came near an old 
tomb ; the tenants of it had long ago mouldered to 
dust, and the bones and fragments of the coffins 
had been burnt by Miss Sally ; the old doors, half 
decayed, lay on the ground ; creeping vines half 
concealed the entrance : it looked dark and gloomy 
within. Violet gave a glance at it, and seizing 
her basket, ran on as fast as she could. 

“The spirits are in there!” thought she; she 
stopped not till she had reached the back of the 
grave-yard ; it extended some way, and she had a 
long run. 


MYSTERIOUS NOISES. 


51 


There she saw the bones Miss Sally had told her 
about. Afraid not to mind she picked them up, 
though in fear and trembling, and filled her basket ; 
then afraid to return by the old tomb, she took a 
roundabout way across the grave-yard and by the 
gate to reach the back door. The clothes by this 
time were boiled ; Miss Sally rinsed and wrung 
out the larger pieces, and made Violet do the 
same with the smaller ones. When all was ready. 
Miss Sally gave Violet the basket with the smaller 
ones. 

“ Here,” said she, “go up to the back part of 
the grave-yard, and spread them on the grass you 
see there, while I hang the rest in the side yard, 
for I suppose you couldn’t manage the sheets and 
large things without getting them down in the 
dirt.” 

Violet took pains to go round by the gate as 
before. Miss Sally turned the corner of the house 
and was hidden from sight. 

When Violet had spread her clothes, she went 
to examine a white marble grave stone that she 
had seen on one of the paths. An angel pointing 
upwards was carved on the upper part ; the grave 
looked neglected — dry grass and withered leaves 
had accumulated round it, dead sticks and brush- 
wood was lying across it. 

“ I never knew my mother,” said Violet, mus- 
ing, “ I suppose she’s dead, I shall call this her 
grave, — and I’ll clear it up and make it look 
nice.” 


52 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


She worked away for some time, raking out the 
dry leaves with her fingers, plucking up the dead 
grass, carefully removing every stick. 

“ O, if I could only read the words on it ! ” said 
she, “ O, U, R, M, O, T, H, E, R, — if I only 
knew what it spelt, O, if I only had somebody to 
teach me how to read ! ” 

“ Do you want to learn to read so very much? ’’ 
asked a pleasant voice. Violet looked up. 

A young man stood behind the stone wall, gaz- 
ing at her and smiling, revealing a very white set 
of teeth in a mouth that had two merry dimples at 
the corners. 

“ Do you wish to learn so very much?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Violet who instinctively felt 
that she had found a friend. 

“ Well, then,” said he, springing over the wall, 
“ ril teach you; this is the book, is it?” inquired 
he, pointing to the grave stone. 

“ Yes, sir ;” answered Violet, “ that’s what I was 
trying to read.” 

“ Well,” continued her new teacher throwing 
himself carelessly on the grass by her side, “we 
will take the next line to begin with, because it’s 
easier; you may take the letters slowly.” 

Violet began, “ W, e,” “We” said her teacher. 

“ c, a, n,” “ Can,” added he. 

“ h, a, V, e,” “ Have,” said he. 

“ Have ; b, u, t,” continued Violet. 

“ But,” added her instructor. 

“ But, o, n, e — ” 


MYSTERIOUS NOISES. 


53 


“ One.” 

“ One, m, o, t, h, e, r.” 

“Mother;” “ Mother,” finished Violet. 

“ Well, now say it again.” 

“ W, e, — ” said Violet, then stopped. 

“ What does that spell?” asked he. 

“ I don’t know,” answered the little girl. 

“ You must remember,” said he, “ I shall expect 
you to do me credit,” and he laughed. 

Violet colored, a tear stood in her eye. 

“ There, don’t mind it,” continued he, hastily, 
“ I’m the one who ought to cry, because J’m such 
a poor teacher ! that’s all I shall give you for your 
lesson ; you can spell it over when you come out 
here and I shall drop over the wall some day to 
hear it. But you may go over it now once or 
twice more.” He went over it with her patiently 
several times, the words at last fixed themselves in 
her memory. 

“ Now,” said he, starting up “ I’m going — but 
I ought to know my pupil’s name?” 

“ My name’s Violet Heath,” said the child. 

“ You’ll want to know your teacher’s name ; it’s 
Arthur Coverly, goodby and he disappeared 
over the wall. 


54 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


CHAPTER VI. 

PARSON GOSSPER’S. 

“ Not by deeds that win the crowd’s applauses, 
Not by works that give thee world renown, 

Not by martyrdom, or vaunted crosses, 

Cans’t thou win and wear the immortal crown.” 


have visited once before the brown 
house at the end of the village. We 
have been in the kitchen ; the other 
two rooms on the ground floor we 
have not entered ; we will look into 
the parlor ; the floor is covered with a neat carpet 
of a diamond pattern, the room contains beside a 
half dozen cane-bottomed chairs, a mahogany 
table, an old-fashioned oval mirror, and a mohair 
sofa, the nearest approach to luxury of anything 
in the house. 

But it is the third room, the study, that is most 
interesting to us at this time ; the window shutters 
are carefully closed excluding the light, except 
that which comes through two small, heart shaped 
apertures, at the top. The floor is without a car- 
pet, marbled in slate and black, looking cold and 
cheerless ; in one corner is what would lead any- 
one to suppose Parson Gossper to be a Catholic, 
instead of the strong Orthodox clergyman that he 




In the Parsonage Study 



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PARSON GOSSPER. 


55 


is ; this is a table fitted up like an altar, covered 
with a black cloth, on which are burning two wax 
candles before a black crucifix, on which hangs a 
brass figure of the Savior. 

We will account for this before we go farther, 
by saying that the Parson was educated for a Cath- 
olic Priest, but having come to a realizing sense of 
the errors of his belief, changed it and turned 
Protestant to the great delight of that body of 
believers, who got him a situation immediately and 
overlooked several dozen of their own brethren, 
who had studied for the ministry and had been 
waiting for a call to some church ever since. The 
altar and one or two old tenets were still adhered 
to by the Parson, although he kept them to him- 
self ; and as no one but his housekeeper ever 
entered the study, the existence of the altar was 
not even suspected ; the old woman was not only 
deaf, but dumb, as far as telling any of the Par- 
son’s secrets was concerned. 

Around the walls hung pictures of those saints 
who were martyred, those who had been put to 
death in the most cruel manner, seeming to have 
been selected ; those who were sawn asunder, 
burnt over a slow fire, devoured by wild beasts, 
etc. There was a book-case of dark wood on one 
side of the room ; it contained volumes relating to 
the deaths of these martyrs, sermons on the most 
gloomy points in theology — on original sin and 
its consequences, on the endless punishment of 
the wicked, on the total depravity of infants, one 


56 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


even going so far as to say (“ that Hell was paved 
with infants’ skulls”), on the bottomless pit, on 
God’s anger, etc. 

But the occupant of the room demands our 
notice. Sitting at a table in the centre of the room 
was a young man ; pale, thin, almost emaciated, 
his long brown hair had a neglected, dishevelled 
look ; his eyes, — no one in the village could have 
told their color, had they been asked, for he seldom 
raised them ; when he did it was furtively and he 
immediately lowered them. 

But the thing that most struck a beholder was the 
extreme whiteness and bloodlessness of his well 
formed oval face. 

You have read of, perchance seen, the corpses 
of travellers at St. Bernard, who have perished in 
the snow; where the great sculptor. Death, with 
one stroke of his icy chisel has made an enduring 
statue of the fleshy tenement; of which, had the 
old writer lived in the Arctic regions of the upper 
air, he never would have written, “ dust thou art, 
to dust thou shalt return.” Time rolls on, and still 
the great sculptor’s work is unchanged, the image 
of the earthly looking as freshly from its frosty 
niche, as if ready to start forth into life ; such was 
Parson Gossper’s face. The sculptor in this case 
was not Death — but whether it . was sorrow or 
sin was a riddle. 

In the village his character for holiness was 
great; none so pious as Parson Gossper. His 
charities were large, considering his small salary ; 


PARSON GOSSPER. 


57 


no tale of distress reached his ear that was 
not attended to, and if possible relieved. He never 
was his own almoner ; Miss Skillings was the dis- 
penser of his bounty. He was engaged at this 
time in writing a sermon ; it partook of the gloomy 
hue of his own thoughts. “ Blessed is he that bring- 
eth glad tidings,” could not be applied to Parson 
Gossper. Denunciations, threatenings, dark views 
of life temporal and eternal,, made up the bulk of 
his discourses. One of his sermons, the subject of 
which was “Endless punishment,” was so much 
admired, that his congregation wished to have it 
printed. In those days type was not as plentiful 
as now, and it was found on reviewing the sermon 
that the word ‘ ‘ Hell ” occurred so often , that it could 
not be printed, unless they sent to England for 
double L’s, which was accordingly done. Most of 
the villagers regarded his sermons as wonderful 
productions, as to his descriptions of Hell ; as an 
old woman once said, “ He could pint you to the 
very spot.” 

O, these dark, disheartening, crushing sermons ! 
falling like a leaden funeral pall upon the hearts 
of those who having labored, striven, suffered and 
sinned through the week, seek on the Sabbath for 
glad tidings, for rest, calm, mercy, forgiveness, 
and peace. God help the listeners to, and the 
believers in such discourses. God have mercy on 
the false Shepherds who deliver them ! for they 
are blind leaders of the blind ! There were some 
of the villagers who did not believe Parson Goss- 


58 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


per’s teachings — these were denounced by his 
flock, as infidels. 

Mrs. Truepenny was one of the number. “ Why 
should I believe,” she would say to her little group 
of hearers in the shop, “ that God is not as ready 
to pity and forgive his children as man? My Jen- 
nie is blind, she can’t see to do work and things 
that I would like to have her do ; is that the reason 
I should beat and punish her? God made the 
earth and called it good ! If she’s blind and can’t 
see that it’s beautiful, is she to blame because she 
don’t call it so? It’s my belief that we’re as blind 
as my Jennie in regard to spiritual things — we’re 
so blind that we can’t see to sew on the robes our 
souls ought to wear, but I don’t believe God will 
punish anybody unjustly — I believe that He wills to 
give them eyes to see ; and it’s my opinion,” she 
would say, raising her voice, “ that as to the shin- 
ing robes our souls will wear in Heaven, there 
ain’t much of ’em made on this earth ! the best of 
us don’t more than run the breadths ! ” 

When Mrs. Truepenny’s talk was reported to 
Parson Gossper, the reward her eloquence elicited 
from him was, — “ She was conceived in sin, and 
brought forth in iniquity, and there is no good in 
her.” 

As we said before he was at the time writing a 
sermon — a knock was heard at the door — he 
rose and unbolted it ; (he always kept it fastened 
to make sure his study hours were not intruded 
upon, — ) 


PARSON- GOSSPER. 


59 


Miss Skillings stood in the doorway holding a 
basket covered with a nice, white napkin in one 
hand and a paper package in the other — she said, 
“ Sir, Captain Goodheart’s wife sent you some ot 
her mince pies, she said, praps they’d tempt your 
appetite, and a paper of gunpowder tea the 
Captain’s just sent from Chiny — real gunpowder.” 

“Take them away!” said the Parson, with a 
wave of his hand, “ how often have I told you. 
Miss Skillings, that bread and water for breakfast 
and supper were good enough for me, indeed more 
than I deserve, — it is only by fasting and prayer 
that the evil spirits within are to be cast out — not 
by gluttony I” 

As Miss Skillings turned to go, he added in a 
lower tone, as if mindful of her infirmity, though 
not addressing her, “ Get thee behind me, Satan I” 

It was well the house-keeper was deaf, as she 
might have considered it a doubtful compliment 
after all her years of service. She retreated with 
the pies and tea, as if accustomed to obey. 

“ Well,” muttered she, “ I believe he’s possessed 
of a moniac to refuse good vittles, and half starve 
himself — but hum-sum-ever,” here she gave a 
series of chuckles with her toothless gums, “I 
shall get a good supper for a rarity. I’m one as 
don’t despise the good things God sends — and the 
tea’s real gunpowder — real gunpowder jest from 
Chiny,” she mumbled as she went into the kitchen 
to prepare for the anticipated feast. 


6o 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


CHAPTER VII. 



A NIGHT OF EXPOSURE. 

At whose approach, ghosts wandering here and there 
Troop home to church-yards 

NE morning as Violet was in the back 
part of the grave-yard gathering sticks, 
she heard a noise behind her, and 
her teacher sprang over the wall ; she 
felt glad, for she had hardly dared to 
hope that he would keep his promise to a person 
so insignificant as herself. 

“ Come,” said he in a cheerful voice, “ ready 
for your lesson ?” 

He heard her say it ; she made no mistake this 
time. 

“ Well done !” exclaimed he, “ now we’ll have 
a better primer than a grave-stone for the next 
lesson and he took a small book for beginners 
out of his pocket. 

“ Now come and sit by me,” continued he, tak- 
ing his seat on a low tomb-stone. Violet sat down 
by his side ; he bent over her shoulder and 
patiently told her over and over again what each 
word spelt as she slowly conned the first page. 

When they had finished, Violet looked timidly 
up in his face. 


* A NIGHT OF EXPOSURE. 


6 


“ Mr. Coverly,” she began — 

“ Don’t call me mister, call me Arthur,” he 
interrupted. 

“ Arthur,” she continued, “ do you believe there 
are any spirits in this grave-yard?” 

“Who’s been telling you that nonsense?” 
inquired he, laughing, with a roguish expression 
on his face, but as he saw tears stealing from the 
corners of her eyes, he stopped. 

“ Miss Sally,” sobbed she, “ and she said they 
were in the grave-yard every night and if I didn’t 
mind her, she’d call ’em to come and carry me 
off!” and here, as she relieved her mind of the 
burden of fear that had oppressed it for some time, 
she burst into a hysterical fit of crying. Arthur 
soothed her tenderl}^ and when she grew calm, 
said — “Is there anything that looks like spirits 
around here?” 

“ Why, yes,” — said Violet, hesitating, “ there’s 
an old tomb that looks as if it was full of them.” 

“ Where is it?” inquired he, “ Show it to me.” 

Violet led him across the paths, till they reached 
the straight one leading from the back door where 
the old tomb was. 

“ This is the place, is it? ” inquired he, “ We’ll 
send somebody in there, that hasn’t looked in for 
some years ; do you know who that is?” 

“ No,” answered the child. 

“ Well, it’s Mr. Sun; he hasn’t looked in there 
for sometime.” Then he took out a sharp knife 
and cut away the vines and shrubs round it — he 


62 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


placed the old wooden door on one side against the 
mound. The sunshine rushed in, as eagerly as an 
antiquarian would to examine an old ruin, or 
decipher a newly discovered inscription ; or like a 
frolicsome child, who has gained admittance into 
some forbidden place ; how it laughed and danced 
and peered into and examined every cranny and 
corner. 

“ Now,” said Arthur, leading the child forward 
and making her walk in, “ do you see anything 
that looks like spirits?” 

“ No,” answered Violet, “ but — ” 

“ But what? ” asked he. 

“ But you can’t see spirits — ” 

“ No, there are no spirits to see — the only evil 
spirits on the earth are our own bad passions — the 
only one round here, is the one within Miss Sally, 
her ugly evil temper and disposition ; now you 
won’t be afraid of them any more, will you? ” 

“ No 1 ” said the child. 

“When it is a rainy day after you have spread 
your clothes, you can call this your school-room 
and come in and study your lesson.” 

Miss Sally’s voice was now heard calling Violet 
— her friend bade her “ goodby,” and passed over 
the wall out of sight. This Was the day on which 
Violet carried home the clothes nicely washed and 
ironed. Miss Sally was very particular to have 
her go to Parson Gossper’s first, as he stood high- 
est in her estimation. Squire Hunting’s was the 
next place, and humble Mrs. Truepenny’s boarder 


A NIGHT OF EXPOSURE, 


63 


was served the last. After Violet had been to the 
first two places (and she was glad after she had 
been to the second, for Miss Alice always had 
some ugly and insulting speech to meet her with, 
such as, “ O, see the little beggar, look at her 
coarse, blue gown, O, what great, thick clod- 
hopper shoes, etc.”), then she went to Mrs. True- 
penny’s, the third place, which was the bright spot 
in her week ; that and the lessons with Arthur 
were the green oasis in her little life. As she set 
out to this last place Miss Sally called after her, 
her oft-repeated injunction, “ Don’t stop on the 
road, don’t stay out late, if you do. I’ll lock you 
out, and you shan’t come in till morning.” 

This threat had been heard by the child so often 
that she did not much regard it ; besides she always 
expected to be back before dark ; but she knew 
not what the day would bring forth ! 

She reached the shop; Mrs. Truepenny had 
gone out; a strange woman was tending who took 
her basket. She found Jennie in the back room 
playing with a new doll. 

“ O, Violet,” said she, “I’m so glad you’ve 
come ! just look at my new doll, isn’t she pretty? 
See how soft her curls are.” 

Violet praised the doll as much as Jennie could 
wish ; she had often looked at it in the shop win- 
dow and longed to have it, and a feeling almost 
akin to envy rose in her breast, but she repressed 
it and gave a short sigh — “ I never had a doll !” 
she said. 


64 


A S7'RAJVGE D/SCLOSl/l^E. 


“ Never had a doll ! ” exclaimed Jennie, “ that’s 
too bad, if you’ll wait till mother gets back. I’ll ask 
her to give you my old one.” 

“Well,” answered Violet, “if it isn’t too late, 
I’ll wait.” 

“ I know she’ll let me,” said Jennie, “ I’ll get it 
for you to see.” 

Then she went to a drawer, felt over the con- 
tents carefully, found the doll and some of her 
clothes and gave them to Violet. They played a 
long time with the dolls, dressing and undressing 
them and had a first rate time ; the hours flew 
unnoticed ; the thought of the doll as a present 
kept Violet seated until Mrs. Truepenny’s arrival ; 
she had been to a neighboring town to purchase 
stores for the shop and intent on her bundles did 
not think anything of the child’s being there so 
late. She gave a ready assent to the gift of the 
doll, and Violet taking her empty basket left the 
shop to return home, delighted with her present. 

She had not gone many steps before she came 
to reflect “ It’s almost dark ! What will Miss 
Sally say? Will she lock the door?” It grew 
darker and darker ; fear lent her wings — she 
flew along until she was half way down the lane 
leading to the house. 

The clock struck eight, the hour at which Miss 
Sally retired for the night. She redoubled her 
speed, but came to a sudden stop — as she heard 
the sounds of drunken merriment, and saw a dim 
figure in the road at a little distance before her 


A NIGHT OF EXPOSURE. 


65 


performing strange antics to and fro across the 
path. 

She concealed herself behind a large bush by 
the wall and crouched down, impatiently waiting 
for the unwelcome traveller to pass. 

It seemed as if he was in no hurry, he con- 
tinued his frantic dance to and fro across the road 
singing as he went : 

“ I love the prettiest girl in town, 

Fol de lol, de diddle, O, 

. Her eyes are blue, her curls are brown, 

Fol de lol, de diddle, O.” 

Violet grew more and more restless and uneasy ; 
the night was cold, she shook from head to foot, 
she drew closer to the wall for warmth but no 
warmth was there. The drunken man whose 
voice she now recognized as the one who had 
called at Miss Sally’s, began a new song the bur- 
den of which was, “ I’ll not go home till morning, 
till daylight doth appear !” 

The child was in despair ; but with that versatil- 
ity of purpose characteristic of intoxication, he 
suddenly gave the contradiction to his words by 
staggering down the path towards her. She made 
herself as small as possible and pulled the clothes 
basket back out of sight — he passed without see- 
ing her ; she drew a long breath and resumed her 
way — slowly — because she felt Miss Sally would 
keep her word. 

She reached the house, tried the door, it was 
fastened; she called, no one answered. Then 
she felt all the loneliness of her situation. 


66 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“My mother never would have done it,” she 
sobbed, “ left me here all alone — no one to take 
me in, it is very cold, perhaps I shall die before 
morning ! I will go into the grave-yard (her fear 
of the spirits had almost disappeared since the 
morning’s conversation with Arthur) ; I will go to 
mother’s grave (the one she called so) , and if I die, 
I will die there !” 

Then she made her way back of the house 
towards it, as near as she could judge in the dark- 
ness ; she could not find the path, but went stumb- 
ling over the mounds that came between ; she was 
just rising from one of these falls, when she saw a 
light moving here and there among the graves. 
A stouter heart than the child’s would have been 
alarmed in the lonesome place. It was no wonder 
then that she gave a loud shriek, and fell prostrate 
overcome with fear, and benumbed with cold. 
The owner of the light hearing the scream, ran 
quickly to the spot — 

“ Why !” exclaimed a young, but manly voice 
“how’s this? Who’s this? Why it’s Violet! 
and I believe she’s dead ! ” and Kris, for it was he, 
set down his lantern and began rubbing her cold 
hands briskly. 

The child revived and opened her eyes — when 
she saw Kris, she burst into tears — but they were 
tears of joy. 

“ O, Kris, I’m glad to see somebody I know — 
Miss Sally’s locked me out to stay all night !” 


A NIGHT OF EXPOSURE, 


67 


“You shall go home to my mother’s,” said 
Kris, “ this minute.” 

“ No,” answered the child sadly, “ she said I 
must stay out here all night, and I daresn’t go any- 
where else.” 

“ Well,” reflected Kris, “you’ll get your death 
of cold if you remain out here — ah, I have it, the 
old tomb ! I see somebody’s cleared it up — we’ll go 
there.” 

Violet followed him. 

“There,” continued he, “ I’ll leave my lantern 
on a tomb stone, it can watch as well as I.” 

“Are you here to watch?” inquired Violet. 

“Yes,” answered he, “my father’s sick, and 
when I come mother always looks out for my com- 
fort, I tell you ; I’ve got a little lamp in case my 
lantern goes out, and I’ll put this inside the tomb 
so your room will be light.” 

Then he took an old block that stood outside, 
brought it m, lighted the little lamp and placed it 
upon it. 

“Now,” said he, “I’ll make you a bed in five 
minutes.” Then he ran out again and soon 
returned with a bundle of hay ; he shook it down 
in one corner and taking a great shawl from his 
arm, said, “ Here’s a quilt to your bed.” 

“ I don’t feel as if I could sleep,” said Violet. 

“But haven’t you had any supper, Violet?” 
said Kris. 

“ No,” replied the child, “ I haven’t ate any- 


68 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


thing since dinner — but I don’t mind it much — 
I’m used to it.” 

“ Well, you shan’t go to bed, supperless to-night,” 
exclaimed Kris, “ mother always looks out for my 
comfort, see here ! ” and he produced a paper 
from his great coat pocket, unfolded it carefully 
and showed her an apple-turnover and a sandwich ; 
but he did not tell her that he had not eaten any 
supper himself. 

‘‘ You’ll want it yourself,” said Violet. 

“ O, no !” answered he, “I generally eat my 
supper before I start. I’ll get you some water ; 
shall you be afraid if I run up to Miss Sally’s well 
and bring you the tin cup full?” 

“Why — no — ’’replied the child, hesitatingly, 
“ I guess not.” 

But she did feel rather tremulous as she heard 
his footsteps die away in the distance. 

He soon returned, however, with the cup of 
-water, and spreading the paper in which the food 
was wrapped on some hay, he put the eatables on 
it and placed the cup of water beside them. 

“ Now, Vfolet, do justice to my supper.” 

“ If you will eat too, I will,” said the child. 

“ Well,” answered he, “ I’ll take just a bite.” 

“ Now,” said he when they had finished, “ you 
had better lie down and cover the shawl over you 
and try to sleep. I must go outside and watch.” 

Violet laid down and tried to sleep, but the nov- 
elty of her situation, the fears she had respecting 
the old tomb, kept her anxious and restless. Kris 


A NIGHT OF EXPOSURE. 


69 


had gone — she longed to call him back ; sud- 
denly she heard a noise at the old door — she 
jumped up — but was reassured by Kris calling 
in — 

•“Violet — would it disturb you if I whistled 
when I walk by?” 

“ O, no!” she exclaimed, “ I wish you would, 
for I feel so lonesome !” 

So Kris continued his walk, whistling briskly 
as he went, “ Yankee Doodle,” “ Hail Columbia,” 
and other lively tunes; then he began “Old 
Lang S3me,” and then “ Home, sweet home.” 

The child lay and listened till at last the sooth- 
ing strains flowing like a peaceful stream through 
the night air lulled her to rest. She slept soundly ; 
misfortunes, fears. Miss Sally’s harshness, all were 
forgotten. 

O, blessed sleep I What would the wear^^ 
troubled, toiling world do without thee I 

The little infant that cannot speak to tell its com- 
plaints, that fills the house with its low moans, on 
whom medicine can but experiment and the most 
loving care comfort by guess-work, finds in thee, 
one that knows how to lay out its little limbs in 
peace, and still its complainings with a gentle 
hand. 

The laborer worked day by day like a machine, 
as if his muscles were made of iron and his nerves 
of steel, whom the sharp goad of poverty urges on 
to superhuman efforts, finds in thee his onl^^ com- 
forter ; he does not seek thee in vain with restless 


70 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE, 


tossings and impatient longings, like the pampered 
sons of wealth. Thou art always ready at his 
call, to wipe the thick drops of honest sweat 
from his weary brow, to unclasp his rough, 
brown hands, cramped by the tools of labdV, 
to rest his tired limbs, to lead his spirit that knows 
no recreation by day, through pleasant scenes and 
distant lands in dreams. The prisoner, whom man’s 
inhumanity and mistaken justice have condemned 
to a life-long solitude, greets thee for an Angel, 
that stepping over bolts and guards, comes to 
unloose his bonds and bid him wander amid home 
circles and happy friends. But to all slumber, 
even to that of Death — comes a waking ! 

The rosy beams of early morning fell upon the 
grave-yard, tinting the pale stones with a ruddy 
flush, even as they once did the faces that slept 
beneath. It was time the young watchman should 
leave ; he went to the tomb to tell Violet. He 
called — there was no answer — he moved the old 
door cautiously and looked in. 

The child lay in a deep slumber, pale as if she 
were in reality the rightful occupant of the tomb, 
her golden hair in loose meshes around her oval 
face, her red lips, and the gentle stirring of her 
curls as she breathed, alone told of life. 

Kris approached and stooping over her, kissed 
timidly her white forehead. She awoke. 

“O Kris, I’ve had such a pleasant dream; my 
mother has been talking to me and told me not to 
be troubled, that God would take care of me ; and 


A NIGHT OF EXPOSURE. 


7 


she just kissed me and left me ; if she hadn’t gone 
Kris, I should feel vexed with you for waking 
me.” 

“ It is time for me to go,” replied he, “and I 
saw Miss Sally was up for she’s got the shutters 
open and so I came to tell you.” 

“I’m sure,” said Violet, “ I thank you ever so 
much for all you’ve done to-night to make me com- 
fortable ; but it was a beautiful dream, Kris, a 
beautiful dream — goodby ! ” 

“ Goodby,” answered he rather sadly as he took 
his shawl and lantern. 

When Violet entered the house she was saluted 
by Miss Sally — “Hey day. Miss Sleep-out-o- 
nights, where have you been? You didn’t dare to 
go to nobody’s house I suppose?” 

“ No,” answered the child, “ I slept in the old 
tomb.” 

“ Slept in the old tomb ?” repeated Miss Sally, 
“ A very pleasant lodging house, nothing to pay and 
plenty of company, such as spiders, bugs, toads, 
and snakes. I suppose you wasn’t afraid, you’re 
getting to be pretty bold, do you hear, were you 
frightened?” 

“ A little,” said the child. 

“ You’re getting bold,” muttered Miss Sally, 
“ go to work, go to work, and whenever you get 
belated, go sleep in the old tomb ! That’s the best 
lodging for you.” 


5 


72 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

AN ADVENTURE IN THE WOODS. 

“ The ground pine curled its pretty wreath, 

Running over the club-moss burrs ; 

I inhaled the violet’s breath ; 

Around me stood the oaks and firs ; 

Pine cones and acorns lay on the ground ; 

Above me soared the eternal sky, 

Full of light and Deity.” ^ 

was a common report in the village 
that Miss Sally was rich, but she 
lived in a very economical manner ; it 
was onl}^ in regard to her brother that 
she manifested the least extrava- 
gance.^ She never bought any fire-wood ; the old 
grave-yard did its part towards supplying her, 
but there was a wood back of it that furnished 
more. Violet was sent into this wood twice a week 
to pick up the dead boughs. She always man- 
aged to get word to Kitty who joined her in her 
excursion and sometimes Kris. It was a pleasant 
sunshiny day when she started on one of her walks, 
she was met by Kitty and her brother as she 
entered the wood. ‘►f • - 

“I’m bound,” cried Kitty, “to have a good 



AJV ADVENTURE IN THE WOODS. 


73 


time to-day — in the first place — we’ll collect your 
wood — Miss Sally knows it takes some time for 
one to get it, but she little thinks you have two 
pair of hands beside your own to help.” 

Violet smiled ; her joy never partook of the 
boisterous character of Kitty’s merriment. 

“Yes, Kitty,” she said, “we’ll have a good 
time, it’s a lovely day.” 

Kris walked proudly by her side ; he flourished 
a stout, knobby cane that he had cut from a bush ; 
“ I’m your knight-errant, ladies,” said he. 

Kitty laughed — “We don’t feel a bit afraid hav- 
ing you with us !” 

They went industriously to work, gathering old 
broken boughs that had fallen from the trees here 
and there ; they soon had a large bundle ; this 
they hid away among some rocks and scattered 
some dead leaves over it to conceal it. 

“ Now,” cried Kitty, “ for the good time.” 

They gathered a variety of wild flowers, and 
Kris, who was quite a botanist, explained to 
them, how he knew what order each belonged to 
by the number of stamens — what class by the 
resemblance they bore to each other, as the wild 
rose, he showed them was the type of a family 
called the Rose family, to which a great many 
flowers belonged, such as the blossoms of the 
common fruit trees, the common berries, etc. ; then 
he told them of an order of plants called the Cryp- 
togamia or flowerless plants, such as the mosses, 
lichens, liverworts and ferns ; how the mosses 


74 , 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


loved shade and moisture, how perfectly they were 
formed though so small ; how they kept green all 
the year, through heat and cold — how they were 
natives of warm climates and grew on the hot 
sands as w’ell as in Arctic regions on the cold 
snows — how the Laplanders used it to line the 
cradles of their little ones, how their reindeer fed 
on it, digging it out of the snows in winter with 
their hoofs ; how the little seeds by which the moss 
was propagated were almost as fine as powder. 

Then he gathered ferns and told them their 
names, such as Wall fern. Ostrich, Lady fern, etc. ; 
he bade them notice how graceful they were, how 
they bore their fruit on the inside of the leaf, those 
little brown spots they saw ; how they were also 
called brake or brachen, and pulling up some, he 
gave them a white, milky sort of nut which was 
found at the root, to eat. 

These excursions Violet always enjoyed highly, 
particularly that part of them relating to anything 
new, for her active mind was eager in the pursuit 
of knowledge. 

“ Now,” said Kitty, when they had spent 
some time in this manner, “ I think it is time for 
luncheon,” luncheon being the pleasantest part of 
the excursion to Kitty, who, the rest agreeing to it, 
bustled round, got some sticks and with their help 
made a fire ; when the wood had burned away and 
left a heap of coals and ashes, Kris put some 
sweet potatoes he had brought to roast, making a 
fresh fire behind them. 


AJV ADVENTURE IN THE WOODS. 


75 


Violet and Kitty made a table of rocks, placing 
large, green leaves for plates with a bouquet of 
flowers in the centre. 

When the potatoes were done by the addition of 
a little salt and some rolls spread with nice sweet 
butter (which Kitty had not forgotten) they made 
quite a hearty meal. 

After the repast was finished Kitty proposed 
dressing their hair to look like wood-nymphs ; so 
she twined a green vine bearing a red berry among 
her black locks ; while Violet chose one that bore 
little blue flowers and wound it between her bright 
curls. 

“ Which looks Xho. p}'ettiestV^ enquired Kitty. 

Indeed it was a question. Kitty looked so bright 
and cheerful, the red berries contrasting with her 
black hair, her saucy red lips, two dimples danc- 
ing round them, and when they parted, little white 
teeth like kernels of new corn peeping out, she 
might have sat for a picture of Mirth. 

Violet, the little blue flowers nestling amid her 
golden curls matching the color of her large, 
thoughtful eyes, the soft, light green leaves form- 
ing a shining crown round her well-formed head, 
her face placid and calm, might well have repre- 
sented Peace. 

“ Really,” said Kris, “ I can’t tell — ” his eyes 
resting on Violet, unwilling to offend Kitty. 

“I know,” exclaimed the latter sharply, “for 
you haven’t even looked at me, you think Violet 


76 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“ Well, I think so too, and that makes two that 
think so,” said a saucy voice, and the young fellow 
with the black curls, who had called at 'Miss 
Sally’s, and whom we will now call Dick Wildes, 
jumped from behind a rock ; seating himself by 
Violet’s side he continued, — “Two ladies are 
two much for one beau, and I choose this one 
for mine ; so, my dear,” he added addressing 
Violet, “ take my arm and we’ll have a pleasant 
ramble.” Violet instinctively drew back, pale and 
trembling, afraid to speak. Not so, Kitty. 

“ You go away ! you saucy thing ! Kris, Kris, 
come and defend us !” 

Kris needed no second call ; seizing his knobby 
stick, he sprang forward and faced his tall adver- 
sary, who only laughed at him, mockingly. 

“ Take that !” cried Kris raising his stout stick 
in the air, and letting it fall with a force that he 
thought would crack his opponent’s skull ; but 
Dick with a skillful parry turned it aside and plant- 
ing his fist in Kris’ eye sent him rolling on the 
ground with that organ considerably blackened. 

Kitty and Violet, who had now found her 
voice, screamed in concert — and apparently to 
some purpose, as a noise was heard in the brush- 
wood and a loud, gruff voice called out, “ Halloo 
there ! fair play, you great lout beating that are 
little coon ! ” and a rough looking hunter jumped 
between the fighters and gave Dick a blow with 
the butt end of an old fowling piece he carried, 
that sent him sprawling. 


AJV ADVENTURE IN THE WOODS. 


77 


“ There,” said he, “ ef that isn’t enough come 
on and take some more ! ” 

Dick picked himself up rather crestfallen, eyed 
his brawny adversary ; but as the inspection did 
not seem to be very favorable, he turned on his 
heel and went into the woods, looking back as he 
reached the bushes to shake his fist at Kris. 

The hunter, seeing this, called after him, 
“ Don’t stand there, shaking your paw, take your- 
self off, or I’ll send a handful of buck shot after 
you ! ” 

Violet, Kris, and Kitty all thanked their 
defender, who said, “ Pooh ! that’s nothing my 
chicks ! ” shouldered his musket and then walked 
off whistling. 

Violet wet her handkerchief and bound up Kris’ 
black eye, who marched along, regretting all the 
way that his strength was not equal to his will. 
Then they all praised the hunter. Kitty was loud 
in her commendation. 

“ O, didn’t he give it to him though? O, Kris, 
you must learn to fight scientifically, so as to de- 
fend us better.” 

They reached the place where the bundle of 
sticks was hidden, Kris shouldered it and they 
passed out of the wood on their way home. 

Just as they were leaving it they met Parson 
Gossper who often indulged in a solitary ramble. 
He knew Kris and Kitty as the sexton’s children ; 
gazing earnestly at Violet (contrary to his usual 
shy way), “ Who is this with you, my children?” 


78 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“ Her name is Violet Heath,” said Kris. 

As the parson went on his way, he said, half 
aloud, “ a beautiful face, a singularly beautiful 
face ! ” 


MUS/CAL STUDIES. 


79 


CHAPTER IX. 

MUSICAL STUDIES. 

“ Then swelled the organ ; up through choir and nave, 
The music trembled with an inward thrill 
Of bliss at its own grandeur ; wave on wave 
Its flood of mellow thunder rose, until 
The hushed air shivered with the throb it gave 
Then, pausing for a moment, it stood still. 

And sank and rose again to burst in spray 
That wandered into silence far away.” 


EARS passed making their changes. 
Violet was now eighteen years old, 
taller but with an outline rounded 
and filled out ; she wore her curls 
tied together at the back of her head 
falling in a golden shower of ringlets on her neck ; 
her skin still fair and delicate, notwithstanding her 
hard work. 

But the years that had been perfecting Nature’s 
work and making Violet more beautiful, had made 
far different progress with Miss Sally ; she had 
grown more angular and scraggy ; gray hairs 
were plentifully sprinkled in her wiry curls, her 
forehead was more wrinkled, but time had taken 
away nothing of her self conceit. She still re- 
garded herself as a fine-looking woman, a little 



8o 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


old, perhaps, but then it was a different kind of 
beauty. 

Time had not changed her feelings towards 
Violet, she still regarded her only as being ser- 
viceable. Although Violet was now a woman 
grown, her early tasks were not lessened. She 
still went from one end of the village to the other 
twice a week with her heavy clothes-basket ; she 
still gathered Miss Sally’s wood in the pas- 
tures; still washed, ironed, swept, cleaned and 
cooked, and took care of Captain Peter during 
Miss Sally’s absence; as years passed the effects 
of his high living and inaction began to tell ; his 
flesh had shrunk away, his face was wrinkled and 
flabby, he was a mere skeleton. 

Violet had lost her fear of him, regarding him as 
a large baby who needed constant watching and 
care. One of Violet’s errands had been to carry 
Miss Sally’s foot-stove to the prayer-meetings held 
once a week at Parson Gossper’s church. Some 
of the members said, the exhortations and prayers 
were enough to warm the very rafters — but such 
of the flock as were afflicted with rheumatism and 
cramps like Miss Sally, thought a foot-stove full 
of warm coals not amiss. 

Often and often had Violet stood in the aisle lis- 
tening to the notes of the old organ as they soared 
seemingly through the dark beams of the roof, 
piercing the blue heavens above, trilling and warb- 
ling like a lark’s song, bringing to the mind green 
fields, babbling brooks and shady dells — or rush- 


MUSICAL STUDIES. 


8i 


ing with a thunder sound through the church, till 
she fancied the floor trembled under her feet ; 
then the beautifuls oft flowing strains like Angels’ 
voices that thrilled her soul — so that she stood 
scarcely knowing where she was — moved to tears, 
yet not knowing why she wept. 

Mr. Van Zeffer, the old organist, was always 
playing before meeting. 

One night, after listening some time, Violet 
crept cautiously up the stairs to the orchestra and 
stood timidly by his side watching him as he 
played. It appeared to her something wonderful 
merely to move the hands (so easily it seemed) 
across the keys and make such beautiful sounds. 
Then she saw some of the keys move down with- 
out his touching them, and she wondered how it 
could be, but did not dare ask. 

Whenever she carried the stove, after this, she 
made a point of going up and watching him while 
he played — he, absorbed in the music, did not 
notice her. 

The melodies she heard, dwelt in her mind, she 
gave utterance to them at home when out of Miss 
Sally’s hearing. 

The old grave-yard grew vocal with her sing- 
ing ; how the birds, that had built in the old Balm 
of Gilead trees for years, turned their heads and 
twisted their necks and peeped, first on one side 
and then on the other, trying to discover the new 
singer; wondering how the ‘‘vox humana ” had 
been introduced among the stops in nature’s organ 


82 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


without their knowing it. Violet’s mind was 
attuned to harmony ; she had a fine, correct ear, 
a sweet, flexible, yet powerful voice. 

Her lessons with Arthur had interested, but the 
new world of music entranced her. 

One night as she stood beside Mr. Van Zefler 
she unconsciously burst forth in a loud, triumphant 
strain following the notes of the organ with sur- 
prising accuracy. 

“ Who, who is there singing?” said the organ- 
ist turning suddenly round. Violet frightened had 
stepped behind him. He saw no one. 

“All my fancy,” said he, and continued play- 
ing. Violet carried away by the music began 
again — this time he turned quicker and saw 
her — 

“Why, Violet! Was that you, I hear once, 
twice, who has been taught you?” (Mr. Van 
Zefler spoke English rather imperfectly). Violet 
colored. 

“ Don’t have fear, tell me,” repeated he. 

“ No one, sir;” answered Violet. 

“No person? Why this is vair wonderful! 
You shall have lessons ; I will give you some les- 
sons.” 

“ O, will you sir? O, how I thank you, but — ” 
and then she recollected she had no time to call 
her own, “but I don’t know when I can come.” 

“ Come,” cried he, “ come whenever you can, 
one minute, two minute, time when you have stood 
listening to me — you will learn vair quick.” 


Ml/S/CAL STUDIES. 


83 


Violet overjoyed agreed to this, and Kitty, aid- 
ing and abetting, carried her clothes-basket for 
her sometimes, thus giving her more time. She 
made rapid progress. 

Returning from her Jesson one day, she saw 
before her a young woman of about her own age, 
dressed in a flashy manner, with a bright pink 
bonnet and feather, a gown of a large, showy pat- 
tern, a pair of light yellow gloves on her hands 
in which she flourished a green parasol with a deep 
fringe. 

When she drew near, Violet, who thought her 
handsome face, with large black eyes gazing 
boldly out from under their long lashes, looked 
familiar, hearing her say, “ Violet, don’t you know 
me?” exclaimed, “Why Lizzie Prime, is that 
you ? ” 

“ Nobody else,” said Lizzie, “ You didn’t know 
me without the work-house dress, I suppose.” 

“ It wasn’t that, exactly,” answered Violet, 
“ but I haven’t seen you for so long a time ; but I 
haven’t forgotten you, Lizzie, how came you here 
in Chester? ” 

“The same way you did,” answered Lizzie, 
“ Somebody took me to live with ’em, widow 
Scrubb who lives at the other end of the village, do 
you know her?” 

Without waiting for an answer she rattled on 
with great volubility, “ She’s a funny old thing, do 
you know she pretends she has lots of company, 
when she don’t have any ; she’ll pretend that some- 


84 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


body has knocked at the door, go to it and say, 
‘Well, Mrs. Brown, how do you do? I’m de- 
lighted to see you, walk in then she’ll pull out a 
chair, ‘ Do take a seat Mrs. Brown ; how does your 
family do? ’ then she’ll go tp the door again and say, 

‘ Why, Mrs. So-and-so, is this you, and out in this 
weather? Mrs. Brown has just been to see me — 
take a seat — ’ then she’ll pull another chair out, 
and she’ll do this over and over again (I see and 
hear it all through the key-hole), then she’ll go 
into a neighbors and say, ‘ O, Mrs. Smith, I’m 
half dead receiving company — I’ve had so many 
callers.’ But the funniest thing was her going to 
jine the church as she called it. She’d always 
been to the Baptist, but Mrs. Lemon persuaded 
her to go to Parson Gossper’s, and s-he went with 
her to his house to tell him she was going to jine. 

He invited them into the parlor and told her he 
would like to hear the state of her feelings. 

So she commenced, ‘ Sir, I’ve been ever so 
many years to the Baptist church, and at Thanks- 
giving time, for years. I’ve only had a little tur- 
key, about as big as a hen, given me ; and neigh- 
bor Lemon told me, if I’d jine your church, I 
should have a good many things given me, I couldn’t 
get anywhere else ; and so I’d like to jine.’ 

‘ O,’ said she to me when she came home, ‘ ef I 
wasn’t about frightened out of my wits after I’d 
• told him, and I’m sure it wasn’t any harm, — he 
glared open his eyes — they flashed fire — and he 
drew himself up so tall — almost up to the wall. 


MUSICAL STUDIES. 


85 


and he screamed like thunder — ‘ Woman, go 

home I You’re in the gall of bitterness and the 
bonds of iniquity even to this day ! ’ How neigh- 
bor Lemon and 1 got out of the room I don’t know 
but we got into the street as soon as we could ; I 
blamed her all the way home for getting me to go, 
but we concluded that folks what don’t belong to 
churches was good as them what did.’ And 
another thing,” said Lizzie, hardly stopping to 
take breath, “ when she sees company coming, 
she’s got a cunning way to get rid of them as ever 
I saw ; she looked out of the window the other day 
and saw an old lady with her work-bag on her 
arm, and she knew she was coming to spend the 
day with her ; so she put her head out and said, 
‘ How d’ye do, Mrs. Green ? It’s beautiful weather, 
are you going to spend the day with neighbor 
Lemon? She’ll be delighted to see you!’ and 
then she drew it in and shut down the window. 
Widow Scrubb keeps a shop and I tend ; she sells 
varieties, notions, and strong beer, and perhaps 
something stronger, and cigars ; and there’s lots of 
nice young men come in there ; if you’ll come down 
Violet, I’ll introduce you to some of them and I’ll 
treat you to some beer.” 

“ O, no,” said Violet, “ I never drink anything 
stronger than water, besides, it is wicked to drink 
liquor, Lizzie, and I can’t think the young men 
can be very good to drink and smoke, and I’m 
afraid, Lizzie, you’re in a bad place.” 


86 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“ Hey day — ” cried her friend, “ who’s getting 
pious? I thought I’d done hearing cant, when 
I left that hypocritical Miss Peace ; if that’s your 
cut, I want nothing more to say to you ! and I 
think I’ve demeaned mj^self now, talking to a ser- 
vant girl dressed like you ! ” 

Poor Violet was taken by surprise, tears began 
to fill her eyes, as her guardian friend turned her 
back on her, and flinging up her head to the 
imminent hazard of breaking her neck, walked 
haughtily off. Violet ran after her — “ Do tell me 
about Miss Peace, Lizzie !” 

But Lizzie continued walking on without turn- 
ing her head ; and Violet, after in vain trying to 
get an answer, went sorrowfully on her way. 

As she passed down the street she saw two per- 
sons approaching ; when they came nearer she 
saw it was Arthur Coverly and Alice Hunting. 

As they passed, Arthur touched his hat to her 
and smiled. She heard Alice say, “ Do you 
touch your hat to a servant girl?” She did not 
hear his answer, “ Yes, I always salute a lady.” 

She went on, turning her face to the wall when 
any one passed, to conceal her tears. 

It was true, she was a servant girl ! Could she 
expect that Arthur, even if he loved her, would 
marry any one in her position? She felt now that 
she loved him with her whole soul ! That it was 
not the lessons alone that interested her, but that 
he gave them. 


MUSICAL STUDIES. 


87 


As she had grown older, he had treated her with 
increased tenderness and deference, and she had 
felt that he might love her. A look, a word, a 
smile, had been treasured for weeks ; she had 
lived in dreams — dreams how soon to be dissi- 
pated ! Those few words of the haughty Alice 
had shown her a great gulf between them ; she 
was a servant girl and he a gentleman ! Hovv 
much more likely that he should love and marry 
one in his own station, like Miss Alice, wealthy, 
handsome and accomplished, than think of her I 
Of her, a toiler working on for years, steadily in 
the path of duty, day after day, week after week, 
month after month, with a soul full of hopes, aspi- 
rations, longings, after the beautiful — with no 
opportunity for improvement, no time for enjoy- 
ment ! Who that looked at her would see any- 
thing more than a drudge, who would know of her 
aspirations, longings — of her thoughts that soared 
far above those of the common herd around, with a 
soul craving for love, knowing so little of it from 
infancy — separated from the only one who had 
shown affection towards her — what wonder that 
she had cast all her love on one die, and now that 
seemed lost ! The bitter cup of disappointment 
and unrequited affection was held to her lips as it 
has been to those of many thousands in the past, 
who have offered up the same prayer, “ Let this 
cup pass from me !” But how few have added, as 
did Violet, “ Not my will, but Thine be done? ” 


88 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


After this conflict in her mind there came a 
calm. She accepted her lot as one of ^patient 
continuance in well doing without a thought of 
reward. She remembered that to faith there was 
another life, or rather a better continuation of 
his, ’away from earth and earth’s troubles, when 
would be found rest for the w^eary, joys for the 
joyless, peace for all troubled souls ! 

In her studies with Arthur, which had been con- 
tinued year by year, she had learned to read and 
had made acquaintance with the common branches. 
As she had made good progress, and as Arthur’s 
own studies required more of his attention, the les- 
sons were gradually discontinued. Still he had 
manifested an interest in her improvement, had 
lent her books carefully selected, had talked to 
her about them when they had met, and seemed 
pleased to hear her discuss and criticise them -as 
she did, manifesting a judgment worthy of higher 
cultivation. The next day after these events, 
towards the close of evening Violet was walking 
homewards with the heavy clothes-basket. It had 
been raining, she had been out nearly all day, 
weary and sad she dragged herself along. 

It was growing too dark to distinguish anything 
when she heard steps behind her ; she felt neither 
fear nor curiosity, but continued her way. 

“ Good evening,” said a pleasant voice, sending 
a joyous thrill through her heart. It was Arthur. 

“You look tired, Violet, let me take the bas- 
ket and with a gentle force he took it from her. 


MUSICAL STUDIES. 


89 


“You are very considerate, Arthur,” this was 
said rather bitterly. 

. “I hope I am always considerate in relieving 
woman of any burden, either in her hands or in 
her heart.” 

“ One night’s burden doesn’t make much differ- 
ence in the toil of a life time,” added Violet. 

“ Every life has its bright spots,” said Arthur. 

“ Mine has had very few, and it promises less,” 
answered Violet. 

“I would it were mine, to make your life all 
happiness,” he interrupted. “ I am not my own 
master now, but I hope the time will come when I 
shall be.” 

By this time they reached the gate. 

“ Violet,” said he, “ I do not have many oppor- 
tunities of seeing you, my studies confine me 
closely, it will not be long before they will be fin- 
ished, then I shall leave the village; shall I take 
with me the hope that I am remembered by one, 
at least, whom I leave behind me?” 

Violet began to weep. 

“ It is so, then,” he continued, “ you will miss 
me? Do not let what may perhaps be our last 
meeting for some time, be a sorrowful one; good- 
by, Violet. Has not the pupil a kiss for her old 
teacher?” and drawing her towards him, he 
pressed a warm, lingering kiss upon her lips. 
Then turned hastily away and was lost in the 
darkness. 


90 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


CHAPTER X. 

FIRST APPEARANCE IN PUBLIC. 

“ And to its dull, outwearied ear 
Thy voice of melody has crept, 

In tones it cannot choose but hear.” 



MONO Parson Gossper’s peculiarities 
was his love of music which was so 
great that it amounted to a passion. 
He was no singer, did not perform on 
any instrument, but he was a musi- 
cian at heart; his ear was attuned to harmony — 
sensitively so ; whether it was the harmony of 
nature, heard in the rustling leaves, the babbling 
/brooks, the rush of winds, or in the perfect accord- 
ance of a choir of well trained voices. 

He did not like quartette singing which has 
become so fashionable in many of our churches of 
late years ; he thought, and justly, that as in a 
painting, the light that tints the mountain tops 
reflecting the hues of the heaven above it, gilding 
the upper and outer branches of the trees, owes 
half its beauty and half its strength to the deep 
shadows around the mountain’s base and beneath 
the foliage, so the soprano, the leading voice ris- 
ing in clear, full notes, soaring, bearing the soul 
with it upward, needs the full, deep chorus of 


FIRST APPEARANCE IN PUBLIC. 


91 


many voices to give it beauty by the contrast. 
When he was installed pastor over the Central 
church at Chester, the choir consisted of about a 
dozen antiquated individuals whom long practice 
had made perfect in whining out the tunes in a 
most lugubrious manner, persistently closing their 
nasal organs lest perchance a stray note should 
escape thereby. 

The bass-viol was the peculiar institution there, 
and the old tunes were murdered in defiance of all 
musical taste. Sometimes after a very hot sermon 
had been preached in which denunciation after 
denunciation had been hurled here and there — 
the hymn would be given out containing the verse, 

“ So pilgrims on the scorching sand, 

Beneath a burning sky 
Long for a cooling stream,” etc. 

In the chorus, the words, “ Long for a cooling” 
would be taken up and repeated over and over again, 
“ Long for a cooling. Long for a cooling. Long for 
a c-o-o-ling,” until it verily seemed that the old raft- 
ers after being heated up by the sermon, joined in 
the chorus and intimated that if they didn't have a 
cooling soon with a few buckets of water, there 
would be a conflagration. Or in the line of one 
of the hymns reiterated in the chorus, “ And 
you’ll all be welcome. You’ll all be welcome. 
You’ll all be welcome,” it seemed as if the old 
building echoed in sympathy. The words of the 
hymns did not affect Parson Gossper at all un- 


92 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


pleasantly ; he believed them to contain the essence 
of true religion, but the way in which the tunes 
were handled by the antiquated choir, was agon- 
izing to his sensitive ear, so he set about a reform ! 
This was a bold task for so young a man — but he 
was not one to be frightened or discouraged by 
obstacles. 

Little by little he gained his point ; and soon a 
choir of college students replaced the old one, that 
being put to flight by the introduction of an organ, 
and the unceremonious rejection of their time-hon- 
ored bass-viol. 

Mr. Van Zefler was hired as organist and 
leader ; he was to have the whole responsibility 
and if anything was out of order it was always on 
his head that Parson Gossper’s vengeance fell. 

The leading singer of the choir, Mr. Weiss, was 
Mr. Van Zeffer’s especial delight and pride; his 
voice was high as any woman’s, yet sweet and 
full ; the leader watched him with parental care ; 
not so much from affection as from fear of the fail- 
ure of the music; if Mr. Weiss had a cold, grew 
hoarse and husky, Mr. Van Zefler was alwa3^s 
ready with his troches, candy, etc., to cure him; 
if he was not present at the commencement of 
choir meeting he was always inquired after and his 
arrival looked for with the greatest anxiety. 

When therefore Mr. Van Zefler was informed 
at choir meeting that Mr. Weiss was called home 
unexpectedly by sickness in his father’s family, he 
felt himself in a quandary, and called a council to 


FIRST APPEARANCE IN PUBLIC. 


93 


know what should be done. Some of the students 
laughed at Mr. Van Zeffer’s distress and at his 
baby’s being absent (as they called Mr. Weiss), 
suggesting among themselves that he might be 
teething ; the more considerate set about thinking 
how the matter could be remedied. Mr. Van 
Zeffer scratched his head in despair. 

There was only one of the students who 
could have supplied the deficiency and he was 
absent. It was Saturday night and Parson Goss- 
per would look like a tl^under cloud if the music 
failed in the morning. At last a bright thought 
struck him — Violet! But would she come? He 
trusted that he could by some means or other, ii 
she refused, persuade her to do so. But he must 
break the matter to the students. 

“Young gentlemen,” said he, “ I know of only 
one way to remedy the affair, it is one pupil I have, 
a vair young lady — but I don’t know if she give 
consent ; I ask her to-morrow morning — but 
before I shall ask — I must have one condition 
from you all here, that if any of you shall know 
her, that you will not say it, or look it, on your 
oath. I would like all of you to take oath now, 
before I shall ask her, for it is one delicate sub- 
ject.” 

“ O,” cried a saucy looking young fellow with 
black curls, whom we remember as Dick Wildes, 
“ we’ll swear anything for the uncommon pleas- 
ure of having a young lady in the seats.” 

“ You stop ” — said Mr. Van Zeffer, “ you Wild 


94 


A STRAN-GE DISCLOSURE. 


by name, wild by the nature — ” then to the 
others, “ Are you all agreed to that same?” 

“Aye, aye,” they answered; “come Fox,” 
addressing one of their number, “ go down and 
bring up the Bible from the pulpit.” 

“ No, no,” cried the organist, “ I shall not have 
you to disturb the pulpit ! One of you has a cane 
with a cross?” 

“ O, yes,” answered one, “ that’s it ; here Gregg, 
hand it along.” 

The cane with a white ivory cross on the top of 
it, was produced ; the students all laid their hands 
on it and took^the oath of secrecy which Mr. Van 
Zeffer repeated. 

The subject was still under discussion ; how 
could a lady sing with them, even supposing she 
was willing, without the congregation’s knowing 
it? 

“That is one more dif-fe-cult thing,” said the 
organist, “to consider of — she shall have to wear 
the gown and the cap.” 

We would state here that the students wore silk 
gowns and the three-cornered or Oxford caps and 
it was one of Parson Gossper’s whims that they 
should keep them on when singing. 

“ Ha,” cried Dick Wildes, “Parker, you can 
aid here — Parker has two wigs, he can lend one 
for the occasion.” 

“ Yes,” continued the organist, “ that will do it 


all. 


FIRST APPEARANCE IN PUBLIC. 


95 


Parker was despatched to his room for the wig 
— it was brought, and pronounced just the thing. 

The choir-meeting proceeded as usual minus 
the soprano, and at length broke up ; the students 
debating on their way home the probability of the 
lady’s refusal, the query as to whom she might be, 
and the anticipated fun of mystifying the congre- 
gation to-morrow. 

The morning came bright and fair. Violet was 
allowed to go to church Sunday mornings, because 
Miss Sally felt it her duty to stay at home and see 
if Captain Peter had his dinner cooked properly ; 
she thought no one could do this but herself. It 
happened this day, fortunately for Mr. Van Zeffer’s 
plan, that Captain Peter was sick and therefore his 
sister could not go out ; so Violet could be there 
all day. She generally went as early as she could 
to practice singing with her teacher, and this 
morning arrived half an hour before service. 

Mr. Van Zeffer began to broach the subject. 

“ Miss Violet, will you do me a favor?” 

“ Certainly, sir, if it is in my power. What is it?” 

“ I will tell it you, the leading singer is absent, 
there is nobody can fill his place, it is time vair 
near for the service, you are the only one that I 
have know, who can supply the vacancy,” he 
paused. 

“What!” exclaimed Violet surprised, “I! I 
sing in a choir of young gentlemen? O, no ! 
indeed ! anything else and I would do it with 
pleasure.” 


96 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“ O, stop ! Miss Violet, before you shall 
decide — just think how I am place — how Mr. 
Gossper will look when the organ shall strike up 
and no leader ! What did you tell me when I 
gave you the lessons? and,” he added, seeing 
her countenance change, “ where shall be your 
gratitude ? ” 

This was enough, tears filled Violet’s eyes — 
where was her gratitude, to be sure? Had he not 
taken an interest in her, and given her the lessons 
for nothing? This decided her, she would sing 
for him. So she told him and he clapped his 
hands in triumph. 

“ But what will the students and the congrega- 
tion say at seeing me here? ” inquired she. 

“ They shall not know,” answered the organist, 

“ you shall wear the college gown and cap and 
this wig — ” (producing Parker’s wig) ; this was a 
fresh obstacle. 

“ Dress to look like a man? O, Mr. Van Zef- 
fer, how can I do it?” 

But the organist was nothing daunted, he had 
found the chord on which to play to move his 
pupil’s feelings and this was enough. 

“Then you have no feeling for your poor, old ' 
teacher? ” 

“ O, yes, I will wear them,” added Violet, has- 
tily choking down her feelings. “ What if Arthur 
should see me and know me,” thought she ; but 
she felt somewhat relieved as Mr. Van Zeffer, 
touched a little by remorse, as he saw how he had 


FIRST APPEARANCE IN PUBLIC. 


97 


wounded her, added, “ If Mr. Coverly had been 
here I would not have asked you by no means.” 

Time was fast slipping away — people would 
soon arrive ; Violet therefore took off her shawl 
and bonnet and donned the loose silk gown and 
three-cornered cap, after putting on the wig and 
tucking up her long ringlets under it. Then Mr. 
Van Zeffer told her to stand in the front row in the 
centre of the seats and sing over the anthem and 
hymns for the day ; all which was accomplished, 
and Violet seated before any one arrived. 

Soon people began to fill the church. Violet 
looked down on them with far different feelings 
than she ever had before ; her seat had been in a 
free pew in the gallery along side of the orchestra ; 
there, although she could see everybody she felt 
secluded ; here the strangeness of her situation 
made her feel that every one was looking at her; 
but the hardest trial was when the singers began to 
fill the seats. Violet kept her face turned towards 
the congregation — but she felt that all were look- 
ing at her with curiosity. Her excited feelings 
were raised to the highest pitch when the alto 
singer, whose vacant seat beside her she had been 
thinking about ever since she sat down, was filled 
by Dick Wildes who leered at her as if to say, 
“ You and I have seen each other before, and I 
have a small account to settle with you before I 
am done.” 

Dick was one of those low, mean fellows who 
never lost an opportunity of avenging themselves 


98 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


on a weaker adversary. Violet, wrought up and 
excited, turned her face resolutely towards the con- 
gregation and tried to compose her mind before 
the time for her trial came ; but she felt that those 
basilisk eyes were fixed upon her ! 

Dick soon commenced operations ; leaning care- 
lessly forward, he placed his white, jewelled 
fingers on the brass rings of the curtains and 
began as if playing with them ; then all at once he 
pushed them before Violet. What a relief ! She 
was completely screened from the audience ! But 
this was far from being Dick’s plan ; the curtain 
was hastily jerked away again — and this he 
repeated until the attention of some of the congre- 
gation was attracted, this was what he desired ; 
some of his acquaintances began to look up. Dick 
telegraphed sly signals to make them look at 
Violet, as much as to say, “ We’ve got a new 
singer; guess who he is?” 

This he kept up until the voluntary died away, 
and Mr. Van Zefter began a prelude to the open- 
ing anthem — it commenced ; Violet began with a 
voice weak and trembling at first, but as she went 
on it gathered volume, the music thrilled through 
her soul, the gown and cap, the audience, even 
Dick Wildes, were forgotten for a time. 

Dick, who was proud of his own voice and musi- 
cal skill, tried to do his best and by the excellence 
of his own performance to detract if possible from 
her’s. They had sung two pages of the anthem, 
when Violet looking a little ahead in the music, as 


FIRST APPEARANCE IN PUBLIC. 


99 


was her custom, saw that the next leaf was miss- 
ing from her book, and catching Dick’s evil eye 
she saw that it was he who had done it. 

There was a look of assurance in his bold mien 
and of triumph in his gaze not to be misunderstood. 
Violet saw this and looking away from him pro- 
ceeded in the anthem as easily as if the page were 
before her ! She did not sing by note, but this 
anthem being a favorite with her, she had sung it 
over so many times that it was as familiar to her as 
her primer. 

Loud, clear and triumphant, in despite of the 
missing leaf, rang out the soprano ; -people looked 
up now without the need of telegraphing, -to see 
who the new singer was. Dick bit his lips in vex- 
ation as he saw his plot fail and pame near break- 
ing down himself. 

The hymns were sung in the same triumphant 
style; even Parson Gossper forgot himself — his 
eyes rested on the new singer with a kind of pleased 
wonder, and he gave out the longest hymn in the 
book as if for the pleasure of hearing the sweet 
voice longer. The services were at length over ; 
Violet sat down, pale and exhausted, her highl}' 
strung nerves relaxing. 

The congregation passed out, talking about and 
extolling the new singer. After the seats were 
vacated, Mr. Van Zeffer thanked and congratu- 
lated Violet on her success. 

“ You did some wonders, my child,” said he 
eagerly, “ you can support yourself any time if you 


100 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


will learn the music of the opera — I can get you 
a place to sing in some theatre not vair far from 
here.” 

“ No,” answered Violet, “ I cannot leave Miss 
Sally, she is getting old, and it is my duty to stay 
and help her as she gave me a home when I was 
young.” 

“She never treat you vair well,” suggested Mr. 
Van ZefFer, “ but no matter now, you have done 
well, I thank you.” 

Violet doffed her false attire and putting on her 
simple straw bonnet and shawl went home. 

On her way, she saw in one of the cross streets 
walking leisurely, taking a Sunday stroll, her 
annoyer, Dick Wildes, at the side of Miss Alice 
Hunting, leaning forward, looking up in her 
haughty face with a pleased smile as he conversed 
with her. 

“ Ah,” thought Violet, “ a pair of haughty 
spirits, I don’t know why they have both taken 
such an aversion to me, who never did them any 
wrong — ah, well, ‘ pride goeth before destruction 
and a haughty spirit before a fall.’” 

In the afternoon Violet felt more composed, the 
more so, that Dick Wildes absented himself, much 
to Mr. Van Zeffer’s displeasure. 

Finding he could not disturb her by his presence, 
he thought he might by being absent ; and that by 
losing the accompanying voice she might lose her 
self possession, but he was mistaken ! Without 
his malicious face at her side, she sang better than 


FIRST APPEARAN-CE IN’ PUBLIC. 


lOI 


she had in the morning ; so well indeed, that no 
one seemed to miss the alto, in their admiration of 
the leading voice. 

After supper that night as she was walking 
round the grave-yard, she thought of the events of 
the day and Mr. Van Zeffer’s offer; to be able to 
earn enough to support herself after living so long 
and working so hard with no remuneration ; to 
earn money to buy clothes, books, to indulge her 
tastes — it was a tempting thought ! but then her 
duty to Miss Sally ! This she thought overbal- 
anced all arguments in favor of change. 


102 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


CHAPTER XI. 

MISS SALLY’S AMUSEMENT. MID-NIGHT FRIGHT. 

“ Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold.” 

NE morning, Violet had been sent to 
Parson Gossper’s. This as we have 
said was at the extremity of the vil- 
lage ; it usually took a good part of 
the morning to accomplish it. 

This morning after Violet had walked a few 
rods she found she had forgotten one of her 
errands ; so she hurried back to ask Miss Sally 
about it. 

When she reached the house she found the door, 
contrary to the usual custom, locked. Then she 
went round to the back door — that was fastened 
also. What did it mean? She approached the 
kitchen window, it was open a little — half a blind 
was shut, and standing behind the rose and honey- 
suckle bushes that wholly concealed her, she 
looked in. Miss Sally had drawn her chair to the 
side of Captain Peter’s couch and was showing 
him something bright and glittering which she 
kept taking from her lap and letting fall into it 
again. Violet saw to her great surprise that it was 
gold I She listened. 



MISS SALLY'S AMUSEMENT. 


103 


“ Look here, Peter boy,” said Miss Sally (she 
always addressed her brother as she would have 
done a small boy). “ Look here ! This is gold ! 
Gold ! Gold ! ” raising her voice at each repetition. 
“Gold, that will buy what? Nice things; tur- 
keys, puddings, pies, oysters, custards, that Peter 
boy likes for supper ; and fine flowered dressing 
gowns and handsome caps for Peter ; and when his 
sister gets older and a little more is added to it, will 
buy a horse and carriage for her and Peter to ride 
out in,” and she ran her hand into the shining 
heap and let it fall again into her lap, as though 
the sound was music to her ears. Peter, seeing 
her pleased, laughed loud, his uncouth, frightful 
laugh. 

“ Guess, Peter boy, how much is here?” 

Peter making a sort of gutteral sound. Miss 
Sally, as if she took it to be an inquiry, went on to 
count, first saying, “ These are eagles, Peter, gold 
eagles.” When she had counted five hundred of 
them, making five thousand dollars, Violet was 
astonished ! But when she counted and counted, 
until she had numbered one thousand eagles, mak- 
ing ten thousand dollars, Violet was more than 
astonished. 

Miss Sally the owner of ten thousand dollars ! 
rich, and yet not satisfied — living as meanly as 
she did — working as hard — making her toil day 
by day, from morning till night, from the time she 
was a young child until now — she could hardly 
believe the evidence of her senses ! But there wa* 


7 


104 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


the proof before her ! Fearful lest Miss Sally 
having finished counting her treasure, should come 
out and discover her, she got down from her hid- 
ing place; as she stepped down, the errand she 
had forgotten flashed into her mind ; and congrat- 
ulating herself that she should not be obliged to go 
in and ask Miss Sally, she turned the corner of the 
house towards the street, and in doing so, almost 
ran into the arms of a man coming in the opposite 
direction. 

This was a rough looking individual with a 
head of thick, sandy hair sticking out from all 
parts of an old, white Kossuth hat ; dressed in a 
seedy looking coat, a thread-bare, red, cotton vel- 
vet waist-coat, over which dangled a huge, gilt 
watch chain ; a large, canvas rag-bag over his 
shoulder and a pair of steelyards in his hand pro- 
claimed him a tin-peddler. 

As soon as he recovered himself from the sudden 
meeting, he began, “ Say now, hev ye enny old 
rags, old iron, bones, or anything else to sell, or 
swap? ” 

Violet answered, “ WeVe no rags and no iron, 
and I didn’t know we ever sold any bones.” 

Didn’t ye though? Well, the old w^oman as 
lives in there does — many’s the barrel of bones 
my man sez he’s bought on her ; dunno where 
they earned from, that wa’n’t my bizness. I 
thought I’d come myself this time — couldn’t raise 
anybody though and the doors was locked — so I 
looked in the winder and I see the old woman pick- 


MISS SALLY'S AMC/SEMEATT. 


105 


ing coffee or shelling peas or something — so I 
thought I wouldn’t disturb her.” 

Violet repeated that they had nothing to sell, 
and he went swaggering out of the garden, whis- 
tled to his horse, which was standing with the cart 
at a little distance, got in and drove off. 

Violet went on her way, cogitating, wondering 
as to the source of Miss Sally’s wealth ; she never 
could have earned it by washing and ironing. 
Then she thought of what the peddler had said 
about the bones ; could Miss Sally have sold 
human bones and made her money that way ? No, 
it would take a long time to realize ten thousand 
dollars by the sale of bones. Then the mid-night 
noises occurred to her — heard at different times 
for years, stealthy whispered conferences, with 
unknown men, held by Miss Sally ; had these 
nothing to do with her wealth? This must be the 
key to unlock the secret, concluded Violet; but 
how to unlock it and solve the mystery? With 
these thoughts in her mind she went on her errand 
and returned. 

She found Miss Sally bustling round the house 
as usual. Captain Peter was peacefully snoring ; 
perhaps he was dreaming of the golden visions of 
his old age, supposing he had understood any- 
thing of Miss Sally’s talk. Violet had never had 
any companionship with Miss Sally, and, though 
she was full of curiosity about the money, she 
would no more have thought of asking her about it, 
than she would of consulting the farthest planet. 


o6 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE, 


Night was coming to solve the mystery of years ! 
Violet had retired to rest and slept calmly for a 
couple of hours ; then she began to dream ! The 
events of the day were wrought into the web of her 
slumbering thoughts ; the money in the house 
troubled her, she thought that a strange man was 
breaking in to steal it. 

She heard the doors opening and shutting — 
noises below — she awoke in affright ! It was not 
all a dream ! There was a disturbance below — 
she sprang out of her bed and drawing on her 
clothes went to the stair-way and listened — she 
heard the sound of men’s voices and of Miss Sally’s 
trying to hush them ; one would not be silenced, 
he began singing lustily — 

“ Rattle his bones over the stones, 

’Tis only a pauper that nobody owns.” 

“ Shut up your drunken throat, Wildes — ” said 
another voice. 

“What did you bring him for, Parker?” 
inquired 'Miss Sally, “ if you knew he’d been 
down to Widow Scrubb’s drinking?” 

“ How did I know it?” retorted Parker, “ He’s 
such an old soaker he could drink one of Widow 
Scrubb’s hogsheads dry and ’praps he wouldn’t 
show it, how could I tell ? ” 

“ Well, drunk or sober, lend a hand and get it 
along,” returned Miss Sally. 

This was complied with it seemed, for Violet 
heard them lifting something and moving a few 
steps — then a great crash ! 


MISS SALLY^S AMUSEMENT. 


107 


“ There, now youVe done it ! ” cried Miss Sally 
in a loud voice, her wrath getting the better of her 
prudence, “ there’s the coffin smashed and my 
stars ! you’ve got the wrong one and all the old 
bones and ashes over my clean floor !” 

“ Ho, ho, ho ! ” laughed Dick. 

“ What’s to be done? ” asked Parker. 

“ To be done,” said Miss Sally, “ why shovel it 
in again, nail it up, and go get the right one and 
that quick ! ” 

“ I ain’t going to do any more, I, hie, I don’t 
hie — hie — feel like work — hie — working any 
more,” jerked out Dick. ‘‘ Hul — hullo, what’s 
that though ?” cried he, as he saw something 
sparkling among the ashes. ‘‘ Ha,” cried he, “it’s 
a ring — of hie — real hie, old go — o hie, gold! 
it’s mine I ” added he, slipping it on his finger. 

“ No it isn’t,” cried Miss Sally, “ it was found 
in my house and it’s mine.” 

“ Do let him have it,” said Parker, “ and if 
we’re to finish before daylight we’d better go to 
work; come Dick — lend a hand and don’t let a 
woman do all the work I ” 

“A wo-woman — ” mumbled Dick in a sleepy 
tone, “ I didn’t know she, hie, she was a wo- 
woman — I thought she was some old man, she’s 
got such a great be-beard.” 

“ Do let him alone ! ” cried Miss Sally, roused 
by this implication, “ Pd rather work my fingers 
to the bone than ask him.” 


io8 


A SmAATGE DISCLOSURE. 


Dick responded to this by a series of drunken 
grunts, and appeared to have seated himself on the 
stairs and settled down to a drunken sleep ; while 
Miss Sally and Parker seemed by the sound to be 
shoveling and brushing up the bones and ashes. 

When this sound ceased, Violet heard Miss 
Sally go into the wood-shed and return ; then the 
sound of hammering, then they appeared to lift up 
the coffin and go out the back door to the grave- 
yard. Violet felt more and more uneasy. Left 
in the house with her old enemy ! What if he 
should awake and come up into the garret? Her 
fears were realized. 

She soon heard him stirring — and a loud whis- 
per meant only for his own ear, clear and distinct, 
showing that his extreme drunkenness was only 
feigned. 

“ The two gulls are gone ! The coast is clear ! 
And now for the birdie on the topmost bough ! 

What should she do? She stood as if paralyzed, 
in a perfect agony of fear ! There was but one 
way of escape and that was down the stairway — 
up which he was now creeping with slow and cau- 
tious steps, as if he began to think he might waken 
her. 

Nearer and nearer they came — large drops of 
sweat gathered on Violet’s forehead — he reached 
the top of the stairs — in a minute he would be in 
the garret ! With the energy of desperation she 
climbed over the banisters, lowered herself down 
until her knees rested on the garret floor which 


M/SS SALLY^S AMUSEMENT. 


109 


projected beyond, beneath the last rail, while she 
clung to the upper one with her hands. 

By this time he had entered the garret and was 
stealing along towards the bed — he reached it, and 
found it was empty — “ Ah, ha, birdie,” cried he, 
“ you have flown off and left an empty nest ! But 
you can’t be far off. I’ll soon find you ! ” 

Then she heard him feeling round the garret 
among the old clothes and rubbish. She thought 
it would have been wiser in her to have stood by 
the chimney and when he went towards the bed to 
have slipped down stairs ; but then again he might 
have turned to the right and caught her. All this 
passed through her mind as he made the round of 
the garret ; not being familiar with the premises 
he stumbled over the old litter and ran his head 
against the clothes lines hung across. He mut- 
tered oaths and curses to himself, not loud but deep, 
and kept on his way nothing daunted. Heneared 
the banisters — Violet felt him take hold of it — 
it was old and rotten, it shook under his grasp — 
the place where she hung was quite high above the 
landing — what if it should break? She lowered 
her hands from the upper to the second rail and 
held her breath, while she felt as if the old ban- 
ister was about to give way every moment — and 
expected either to be discovered or to be precipi- 
tated down the stairway ! 

“ O, why don’t Miss Sally come in?” thought 
she, “ Will she never come? ” 

Better to brave the anger, which she knew would 


I 10 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


follow on the discovery that she had found out her 
midnight business, than to be caught by this 
unprincipled and dissipated young man ! 

He passed along the rail — she could smell his 
drunken breath — for although he was not at all 
overcome by the liquor, as he had pretended, still 
he had been drinking — he passed on without dis- 
covering her ! 

Then he made a second tour round the garret 
— one moment trying to lure her out of her hiding 
place with the most flattering speeches, the next 
uttering imprecations and threatening what he 
would do if he caught her. 

“ Hang it ! ” said he, at last, “ what a fool I am ! 

If I only had a light I could find you fast enough ! 

A match ! A match ! My kingdom for a match ! 
I’ll go down below and get one, if that stupid 
Parker has left any ! ” 

Then down the stairs he went. Now she was 
sure to be discovered. Her first thought was to 
fly down the stairs, but then she might meet him ! 
She heard him fumbling in the lower entry — he 
had found the match box. 

“ Hang it ! ” she heard him say, “ I believe it’s 
empty ! No, hurrah ! There’s just one left ! O, 
precious taper, you’ll soon show me her pretty 
little face.” 

Knowing that the first ray as he came up the * 
stairs would discover her, Violet climbed over the 
railing back into the garret. She would have 
screamed for assistance, but who would come? 


MISS SALLY'S AMUSEMENT. 


Ill 


There was no one in the house but Captain Peter 
and what could he do? 

It seemed as if Miss Sally and her companion 
never would come back. She heard Dick coming 
up the stairs — she ran and stood at the side of the 
chimney, resolved to make a desperate rush down 
the stairs if he passed only one rod without seeing 
her. All this time she wondered that he did not 
light the match — then the thought flashed upon 
her — he was keeping it till he reached the garret 
for fear it would go out ! This was indeed the 
case — but as he came near the top of the stairs 
and his hand rested on the bricks of the chimney, it 
seemed to occur to him that this was a good place 
to light it ; and forgetting his prudent resolution 
not to do so until he was in the garret, he struck it 
against the bricks, lighted it and advanced slowly, 
shielding it with his hand ; matches do not burn 
long at the best, this would have burned long 
enough, however, to discover her, but just as he 
turned the angle of the chimney, in his eager- 
ness to find her, he forgot his caution and moving 
faster, the motion of the air extinguished his light. 

“ Curse my unfortunate stars ! ” screamed he. 

Before he could ejaculate farther, Violet heard 
the welcome sound of the back door grating on its 
hinges. 

Dick seemed to be nonplussed — but puzzled or 
not he arrived at a rapid decision, for he slid down 
the stairs by the way of the banisters and reached 


1 12 


A SmAJVGE DISCLOSURE. 


the bottom where he laid himself down apparently 
as they had left him. 

Miss Sally and her companion entered and roused 
Dick, who seeing his scheme at an end, was now 
ready to lend assistance ; the front door was now 
opened by Miss Sally, the coffin borne out, Violet 
heard the sound of wheels, the door shut. Miss 
Sally went to her bed-room and Violet was left to 
her own strange reflections. Thankfulness for her 
providential escape was her first feeling ; providen- 
tial indeed it seemed when the scheme was so well 
planned and so nearly executed in that lonely house ! 
She knelt down and thanked God for his protection. 
Then came the feeling of detestation and abhorrence 
towards Miss Sally ; her business was explained, 
the source of a part at least of her money ascer- 
tained — she was a resurrectionist — a body- 
snatcher ! This had been going on probably for 
years. But then she knew that the medical stu- 
dents, and Arthur among the number, had been 
her visitors and traffickers. She knew that dis- 
section was necessary, useful, and that by its 
means, b}^ the knowledge gained, many lives had 
been saved. Still it seemed a dreadful thing to 
her to be an inmate in the house where such things 
were done, secretly, stealthily, and as she knew, 
against the law. 


MISS SALLV^S ACQUAINTANCE. 


115 


CHAPTER XII. 



MISS SALLY MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 

“ Not wholly desolate, nor quite shut out 
From peace, are hearts that love, though hopelessly.” 

|HE next day Violet sat sewing in the 
kitchen with Miss Sally and Cap- 
tain Peter for company, and very 
poor company she had always found 
them. She could not help casting 
furtive glances at Miss Sally and wondering that 
she could carry so dreadful a secret in her mind 
with such a placid brow. 

It is time we went back a little in our story and 
gave the reader an insight into Miss Sally’s early 
history, showing the circumstances by which she 
was led to engage in her unlawful calling. 

When Miss Sally could first remember her 
father, the sexton of the Orthodox church, he was 
a dried up old man, stiff-jointed and cramped with 
the rheumatism, the result of his occupation ; he was 
a hard worker — no toil was too much — no drudg- 
ery too degrading, if it only added to the money he 
had accumulated year by year. Sally was her fath- 
er’s own child in this respect ; ready to run at any 
one’s call, if a bright cent was only given her as a 
reward. She was always old looking, even when 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


1 14 


a child her face wore a harsh, calculating look ; 
childish sports had no interest for her, she much 
preferred doing an errand, gathering berries, nuts, 
herbs, anything that would bring her in a little 
money. 

Her father regarded these indications with pride, 
she was so like himself ! 

“ See the child, mother,” he would say, when 
going into a corner, where she fancied herself 
unnoticed, she would open her little wooden box 
in which she kept her cents and count them over. 
“ There’s a girl that’s going to be a rich woman 
one of these days.” 

Mrs. Harw’ood would give a gentle sigh and say 
nothing — she well knew that words were useless 
in penetrating the hard shell of worldliness. Of a 
mild, pleasant disposition, she had early learned 
the lesson so necessary to know in this world, to 
bear and forbear. She was a hard worker, like 
her husband, but not from the same motives. 
Her ambition was to have everything around, and 
in the house looking like wax work ; the old floors 
were of spotless whiteness, the windows, clean and 
shining, the pewter dishes shone like silver. 

As far as neatness was concerned Sally was like 
her mother — but here the resemblance ended. 
Mrs. Harwood felt a sympathy with nature, found 
pleasure in observing all its outward manifesta- 
tions, had a great love for flowers ; this last she had 
tried to engraft on the young mind of Sally ; when 
she stepped into the back yard about her work. 


MISS SALLY'S ACQUAINTANCE. 1 1 5 

she always found time to pluck a flower, which 
she would bring in and give her, telling her to 
see its pretty color, to look inside and see how 
many little slender threads with heads on them 
were there (for she was unacquainted with 
botany and did not know the name for them) ; to 
observe the little cups full of seeds that snapped 
and scattered their contents, when she pressed 
them with her finger. Living as she did near the 
grave-yard she felt an interest in and a care about 
each grave, though the occupant might be un- 
known to her ; a lonesome looking, or neglected 
grave excited her peculiar sympathy. 

“ Sally, dear,” she would say, after looking at a 
little child’s grave, whose few rough sods appeared 
as if thrown on at random, “ run into the field back 
and dig up a little rose-bush, they’re just ready to 
bloom, and plant it by that little new grave ; ’twill 
make it look as if somebody cared for it.” 

Sally would go out as if to obey orders ; but the 
chances were, that instead of getting the rose-bush, 
she would pick a basket of berries, run down the 
lane through the village and sell them, and 
when her mother, on her return, would say, 
“ Well, Sally dear, have you set it out?” she would 
answer carelessly, “ I forgot it, mother,” or, “The 
berries were so thick I thought I’d better pick 
them before any one else found them.” 

Mrs. Harwood would turn away without a word, 
but the rose-bush would be set there notwithstand- 
ing Sally’s indifference, for Mrs. Harwood would 


ii6 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


finish oif a hard day’s work by doing it, smoothing 
down the ragged sods her husband had tumbled 
on with a careless hand — for it must be confessed, 
that he was not over nice or particular about his 
work, except he was paid a good price for doing 
it. 

It may be thought by some, that he was very 
indifferent and unfeeling towards his wife ; this 
was not the case. He had no sympathy with her 
finer feelings, but in all that he deemed essential 
to her comfort, he was ever ready to give aid. 

In Mrs. Harwood’s mother’s days there had been 
a settled minister, who had lived at this, the par- 
sonage ; but ever since that time there had been 
dissensions, and, there not being unanimity enough 
to choose a minister, the pulpit was supplied from 
time to time by different preachers. The sexton 
and his wife were allowed to live in the parsonage, 
which was getting old and dilapidated, on condi- 
tion of entertaining the clergymen. It may be 
thought that the intercourse with these gentlemen, 
even occasional as it was, might have polished 
Sally’s manners somewhat and modified the old 
sexton’s tastes ; but the manners of the country 
clergymen of that time were not distinguished 
for gentleness or courtesy — and as they followed 
the pursuits of farming, coopering, horse-shoeing, 
etc., during the week, perhaps it could not be 
expected. Sally grew up somewhat of a gnarled 
stick, but sharp, shrewd and thrifty. 

Often would her father say, “ O, that Sally had 


MISS SALLY'S ACQUA/JVTANCE. 


117 


been a boy ! ” and as he grew older and limped in 
after a hard day’s work, he would exclaim, “ Well 
mother, if we only had a boy, I shouldn’t have to 
work so hard in my old age !” 

As Sally was now seventeen years old, and her 
mother nearly fifty, it could hardly be expected 
that his wish should be gratified — but strange to 
say, it was, and Peter was born — a poor, puny, 
deformed lump he was — but then he was a boy. 
Time they fondly hoped would cure his deformity 
and strengthen his shrunken limbs. 

But the greatest misfortune of all was not even 
suspected for two years — then the sad truth 
flashed upon them., Peter was an idiot ! 

Before this discovery, his father would say, 
“True, mother, he never can do any hard work, 
but then who knows, he may be skillful at some 
light craft. Then he will get married and bear up 
our name.” Alas for the hopes so fondly 
cherished, doomed to a life-long disappointment. 
The father received the blow with a sullen dogged- 
ness, and from the time that he realized the fact, 
took no more notice of the baby than he could 
help. 

Not so the mother ! Receiving it with meek sub- 
mission, with which woman bends beneath the 
heaviest burdens placed upon her, she felt and 
cared for the little one with even more tenderness 
(if that was possible) than she had done. He was 
henceforth to her a sacred charge. Sally, who 
was as pleased as either of them at the baby’s 


ii8 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


advent, lost none of her interest when she knew 
his misfortune. She watched over him with a 
mother’s care — his slightest motion was obeyed 
by her ; and when she and his mother found that 
the only thing in which he seemed interested was 
to have something good to eat, it became one of 
their chief employments to cook up niceties for 
Peter’s appetite. 

Years passed. Mr. Harwood, after being almost 
helpless from rheumatic pains, died. He left a 
small property ; this his wife would not encroach 
upon, regarding it as a sacred trust, something 
laid up for her boy’s support, who never could 
help himself; in order to leave this untouched, she 
took in washing and ironing, and, with Sally’s 
help, made a decent living. She did not survive 
her husband long, but during the last years of her 
life she made it her duty to impress on Sally the 
constant care that Peter (or Captain Peter as they 
had playfully named him in his first year) needed, 
and charged her never to neglect him. She also 
encouraged the desire of mone}^ getting, that Sally 
manifested, thinking perhaps that her boy would 
need all that she could earn ; and after fulfilling 
the lot, so common to woman, of hard, unceasing 
labor, cares, pains and sorrow, she departed, when 
as it seemed to her, as it has to how many, that 
she had just learned how to live. 

Sally was left alone in the old dilapidated house 
with her idiot brother. She appeared now to have 
but two motives in life — to take care of him and 


AflSS SALLY^S ACQUAINTANCE. 119 

to lay up money. It is no wonder then, that when 
she was called on by some of the medical students 
and the plan proposed to her of furnishing them 
with bodies for dissection, she readily agreed to it 
in consideration of the money it would bring her. 

Her father’s place had been supplied by Ben 
Coplin, who was the only obstacle in the way 01 
this traffic, being hired to watch sometimes at 
night in the grave-yard ; this she removed by first 
getting on familiar terms with him, and then ply- 
ing him with liquor, disguised under the name of 
sweetened water, when he was likely to be in the 
way. 

Ben, who liked good liquor, looked upon Miss 
Sally as a very free, social person and above all 
quite generous. “ Else why,” reasoned he, 
“ should she take the trouble to give me anything' 
comforting in my lonesome watches ? ” Miss Sally, 
having carried on this nocturnal trade for many 
years without discovery, had become emboldened. 
She had always made it her business, the morning 
after the midnight work had been transacted, to 
remove every vestige of it that might lead to 
observation. 

She had often listened with greedy ears to her 
father’s account of the last war, and how the peo- 
ple of Chester had been forced to leave everything 
and fly into the woods at the approach of the 
British, how frequent flights had taught them to 
dig hiding places and bury their money. “ I have 


120 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


no doubt,” he would often say, “ that some of it is 
buried in this grave-yard.” Sally would steal 
away sometimes and dig in places she thought 
most likely to contain it ; but her labor was usually 
rewarded however by finding nothing. One day 
(it was some time before Violet came to live with 
her) it chanced that as Miss Sally was rearrang- 
ing the sods round a grave which had been dis- 
turbed the night before, she noticed a deep hole at 
the back of a tomb-stone where the ground 
appeared to have caved in ; curiosity prompted her 
to thrust a stick into it ; it hit upon something that 
jingled. Nothing more was needed to stimulate 
Miss Sally to exertion, and strange to say, after 
digging some time she came to a sort of kettle 
filled with gold coins — the frost had displaced the 
cover and dirt had mixed with the money. 

This was probably one of the hoards of the early 
inhabitants deposited there in war time ; the owner 
had been killed, and the treasure remained 
unknown. 

Miss Sally lost no time in lifting it out and con- 
veying it to the house. This was the secret of 
most of her wealth, wealth that had excited Violet’s 
surprise. 

To return from our necessary . digression — the 
party in the kitchen was still a silent one ; Miss 
Sally and Violet were sewing as we have said 
before ; Violet could not help looking at her and 
wondering that she kept so dreadful a secret with 
so calm a brow. 


M/SS SALLV'S ACQUAINTANCE. 


I2I 


Captain Peter lying back on his couch was 
watching the flies on the ceiling, one of his favo- 
rite employments. Suddenly there was a loud rap 
at the door — Miss Sally started up, in dismay, 
saying, “ I shouldn’t wonder if that was Parson 
Gossper, hand me my head-dress with pink rib- 
bons on it, out of that drawer, Violet.” Snatching 
off an old handkerchief, she put the head-dress 
carefully on, smoothing down her scanty curls on 
each side, then hurried to the door ; Violet sat 
where she could see ; if she had not, the voice 
would have recalled the individual. 

“ Good day to ye, ma’am, didn’t know enny body 
was to home — called once before but didn’t find 
ye. I’ve had dealings with ye through my 
man Johnson, and thought I’d like the honor of an 
acquaintance with ye.” 

Violet recognized at once the man whom she 
nearly ran against the day she had been watching 
Miss Sally through the window ; but his dress had 
undergone quite a change, his old Kossuth hat 
was replaced by a second hand, tall, white beaver, 
which he lifted from his head with a jaunty air 
when Miss Sally opened the door, his limbs were 
encased in striped pants, a large yellow waist-coat, 
over which a gilt watch-chain dangled, bulged out 
in front beneath a blue coat adorned with large, 
brass buttons ; there was an evident attempt at 
dressing up and making the best appearance he 
could ; even his sandy hair which before had stuck 
out towards all the points of the compass had been 


22 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


induced by the use of oils to comport itself in a 
becoming manner, and lay flat, plastered down at 
the sides of his face. 

Miss Sally seemingly fascinated by the bold 
gaze of his sharp, grey eye replied in a low tone 
of voic€, forming quite a contrast to her usual 
sharp notes, 

“ Indeed, sir, I wasn’t aware that you had been 
here before. I am sure I shouldn’t have forgotten 
you, if I had ever seen you — but won’t you walk 
in? This way, sir, if you please ; ” and she led the 
way into the best room ; an honor usually reserved 
for Parson Gossper. 

They remained there so long that Violet began 
to wonder what the conference might be about ; it 
ended after a time, when Miss Sally led her visitor 
through the entry into the wood-house, where she 
appeared to have quite a trade with him, for he 
made many turns to and from the wood-house to 
his cart which was fastened at the back gate, 
carrying something with him each time ; Violet 
could not see what. 

At last, however, he rode ofT, and Miss Sally 
entered the house. There was a nervous excite- 
ment in her manner ; two bright red spots glowed 
on her cheeks, yet she looked pleased. She 
seated herself and took up her sewing ; after a 
few stitches she threw it down, walked to the glass, 
arranged her curls, gave her head-dress a twist 
and re-seated herself. After sewing awhile in 
silence, she suddenly broke forth. 


M/SS SALLY'S ACQUAINTANCE. 123 

“ Did you notice what a veiy fine looking man 
that was, who just called here at the door? ” 

“ No,” answered Violet, “ I didn’t see anything 
remarkable about him.” 

“ You didn’t? ” cried Miss Sally, evidently sur- 
prised, “ didn’t you see with what a genteel air he 
touched his hat? I’m sure he must have been used 
to good society, or he couldn’t have done it.” 

“ No,” replied Violet, “ I didn’t notice anything 
very well bred about him, on the — ” here she 
checked herself; she would have added, “on the 
contrary I thought him vulgar and low in appear- 
ance and language — ” but she had learned from 
experience, that if she wanted any peace she must 
forbear contradicting Miss Sally, and almost from 
expressing an opinion, at least, from defending it. 

“ You didn’t ! Well some folks’ perceptions 
are not very sharp ; I had a long conversation with 
him and it didn’t take long to find out that he was 
uncommonly gifted in his person and in his mind, 
yes, in his mind,” she continued slightly raising 
her voice, “ and he’s got one gift I wish some 
other folks had ; I don’t mention no names but 
where the coat suits they can put it on, he’s got the 
gift of ’preciating other people’s talents ; for he 
said he was surprised to see a lady of my abilities 
leading such a retired life ; he wondered I hadn’t 
been sought out long ago and offered some public 
situation ; and when I said I guessed I was too old 
for that, he said he guessed I wasn’t more than 
thirty-eight or forty, with my good hair, fresh color 


124 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


and sound teeth, and when I told him I shouldn’t 
see fifty again, he said he knew I was joking ; and 
he’d set me down forty till he knew better. I 
declare,” cried Miss Sally, waxing warm with 
her subject, “ I ain’t seen so agreeable a person 
this long time ! ” 

Violet bit her lips to keep from laughing ; but 
amid her suppressed mirth, she felt rather sober; 
she didn’t like the appearance of the thing at all ; 
the man had evidently seen Miss Sally’s money, 
the day she had met him at the corner of the house ; 
he was no doubt trying to flatter her, to make her 
pleased with him and get possession of it. But 
she would no more have dared even to hint this to 
Miss Sally than she would to wait on the presi- 
dent to give him good advice. 

From this time she noticed Miss Sally began to 
pay more attention to her toilet ; her morning 
handkerchief was discarded, the pink head-dress 
taking its place, she even indulged in a new dress, 
red, striped with black, and one morning, perceiv- 
ing a fragrant smell as Miss Sally was dressing 
her head, Violet saw that she was putting some- 
thing on her curls from a small bottle she held in 
her hand ; Violet examined it when she left the 
room and saw it was labelled “ rosemary.” These 
and other things she noticed made her think that 
Miss Sally expected another visit from her new 
acquaintance. 

Sunday morning Miss Sally staid at home to 
prepare Captain Peter’s dinner; but in the after- 


MISS SALLY^S ACQUAINTANCE. 


125 


noon she was always (except sickness prevented) 
to be found sitting stiffly upright in her seat at 
church, wholly absorbed in the sermon, of which 
she seemed afraid of losing one word ; or bending 
over the hymn book which she held close to her 
eyes ; but notwithstanding her devotion to Parson 
Gossper, what was Violet’s astonishment when 
Miss Sally, although as well as usual, informed 
her one pleasant Sabbath, that she should not 
attend church that afternoon. But when the ser- 
vice was over and Violet, on her return entered 
the front door, her surprise was dispelled on seeing 
the tall, second hand white beaver on the entry 
table. 

Before she had time for further reflection. Miss 
Sally bustled out of the parlor ; she was dressed 
like a young girl of sixteen, in a white muslin 
gown with a blue ribbon sash tied round her waist, 
the long ends of which hung down in front ; a 
small bunch of rose-buds was pinned in her bosom, 
as if it pictured the lingered romance of her girl- 
hood (that is if she had ever indulged in any). 
Beckoning Violet into the back room, she began, 
“ Mr. Leroy has been passing the afternoon here 
and will stay to tea.” 

“ Mr. Leroy? ” said Violet, inquiringly. 

“ Yes, the gentleman who called the other day. 
Set the table in your best manner, get the white 
damask table-cloth from the lower drawer, the best 
china tea-set with the roses on it ; cut up some of 
the nice plum cake that I keep for Captain Peter, 


126 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


make some good, strong tea; and I wish you 
would run down back of the grave-yard and pick 
a dishful of the raspberries, they are just ripe, and 
sprinkle a little white sugar over them ; have 
everything looking nice ; dress Captain Peter in 
his new dressing gown, put him up to the table 
when you get ready, and then ring the bell in the 
front entry.” So saying. Miss Sally hurried back 
to her visitor. 

Violet commenced her preparations ; when all 
was ready, she rang the bell. Miss Sally soon 
entered ushering in Mr. Frederick Leroy. 

“This is my brother, Captain Peter.” 

The visitor gave him a nod, with his eyes fixed 
on Violet. Captain Peter did not notice, the slight, 
for his eyes were regarding the plum cake with 
an impatient stare. 

“ This,” continued Miss Sally, “ is Miss Violet 
Heath.” 

“ How d’ye do?” said the visitor with a familiar 
look. Violet answered as shortly and coldly as she 
could. This evidently pleased Miss Sally, who 
did not wish anyone to monopolize the attentions of 
her new acquaintance or be noticed by him. 

Mr. Leroy gazed at the table as though he 
appreciated good fare ; he needed no second invi- 
tation to help himself; the good things were fast 
disappearing before him, he had already drank 
four cups of tea. 

Miss Sally, still mindful of her brother, kept sup- 
plying him with his favorite plum cake, the plate 


MISS SALLY'S ACQC/A/AMAATCE. 


127 


was nearly empty — when Mr. Leroy, who seemed 
to like it as well as Captain Peter, turned to Miss 
Sally abruptly, “ Ain’t your brother an invalid, 
ma’am? ” 

“ Yes, sir, all his life time ; he can’t help him- 
self any except to take his food ; his appetite is 
very poor, he can only eat delicacies.” 

“ Madam ! ” exclaimed her visitor, interrupting 
her, his eye fixed on the plum cake, at the same 
time helping himself to a fresh slice, “ Don’t you 
know that what you call delicacies, are the worst 
things you can give your brother to eat? This 
plum cake for instance — it’s eny most enough to 
kill him ! Give him good plain food — a slice of 
bread and a glass of milk, for zample, morning 
and night, and a bit of meat for dinner, and you’ll 
soon build him up.” 

“ Do you think so?” asked Miss Sally quite 
interested (anything that concerned her brother 
always interested her). 

“Know it,” jerked out her visitor, with his 
mouth full of the article under discussion. 

“ If I only thought ’twould make him strong 
again,” hesitated Miss Sally. 

“ ’T won’t make him quite as strong as old 
Samson was,” answered Mr. Leroy, laughing at 
what he considered a very good joke ; “ but then,” 
added he, “ not to jest, sich diet as I propose will 
fill him out and make his mussels and sinnoos ten 
times as strong.” 


128 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“ When would you recommend me to commence 
his new diet?” inquired Miss Sally. 

“ Right away — now ; take that are piece of cake 
away from him, and give him a piece of bread 
and instid of that are cup of strong tea, give him 
some milk.” 

“ Won’t such a sudden change hurt him, as he’s 
always been used to different fare? ” asked Violet, 
timidly. 

“ Who asked your opinion? ” cried Miss Sally, 
sharply. “ Don’t you think Mr. Leroy knows 
what’s best? I’m sure he’s manifested more inter- 
est than you ever did about Captain Peter — and 
if he thinks it’s best, I will do it now.” 

“In course I do,” replied the visitor, looking 
maliciously at Violet, and still more so at poor 
Captain Peter, the unconscious subject of this dis- 
cussion. 

Miss Sally proceeded to put the advice of her new 
acquaintance into effect — taking away the plum 
cake, she placed a piece of dry bread on Captain 
Peter’s plate and emptying his tea-cup into a bowl 
she filled it up with milk. 

Captain Peter looked at her, then at the visitor 
whom he seemed (notwithstanding his want of 
sense) to associate with this novel proceeding, and 
then set up a loud, continuous scream. 

All Miss Sally could do would not pacify him. 

“ That are is what you might expect,” coolly 
observed her visitor. “ Whenever he ain’t a mind 
to eat hulsome food. I’d carry him away from the 


M/SS SALLY'^S ACQUAINTANCE. 


29 


table into tother room and keep him a spell until 
he comes to hisself/' 

Miss Sally looked troubled and seemed as if she 
would have remonstrated — but Mr. Leroy’s sharp, 
gray eyes were fixed steadily upon her — there 
seemed to be a spell in them. 

“Well, I don’t know but what you’re right,” 
said she at length, “ I’ll try it.” 

All this time Captain Peter had screamed at the 
top of his voice ; he now lay back exhausted and 
black in the face from his exertions. 

“ Let me carry him into tother room,” suggested 
Mr. Leroy. Miss Sally assented, and Captain 
Peter, laid over his arm as though he had been a 
feather, was carried off by the visitor, who cast a 
triumphant look at Violet in passing. 

They soon returned and the meal was continued, 
continued at least by the visitor whose appetite 
seemed nothing abated and not at all diminished 
by the distress of Captain Peter, whose screams, 
he having again found his voice, were heard 
through the closed doors of the bed-room to which 
he had been carried. 

Miss Sally, although she still appeared under a 
sort of pleased fascination, looked worried and 
anxious, and sat scarcely tasting the food. 

As for Violet, she was filled with indignation at 
the cruelty practised towards Captain Peter — for 
cruelty it was — making such a sudden change in 
his food, when he had been pampered all his life, 
when he had no sense to understand the meaning 


30 


A STRAIVGE DISCLOSURE. 


of the change, and when eating was his only enjoy- 
ment. 

We do not mean to say that the diet recom- 
mended by Mr. Leroy was not a good one, if it 
had been commenced in early life ; but that the 
sudden change to a person brought up as Captain 
Peter had been, would prove about as beneficial 
as it would be to place before a person half-starved, 
all sorts of dainties, bidding him eat all he could. 

Mr. Leroy continued eating, helping himself to 
raspberries three or four times until the dish was 
nearly empty, taking no notice of Miss Sally’s want 
of appetite. Whenever he could stop long enough 
to allow himself to talk, he entertained Miss Sally 
with large stories in which he figured as the hero ; 
interlarded so often with the pronoun I, that 
Violet began to wish she was deaf. 

The screams of Captain Peter which had con- 
tinued up to this time, began to die away and 
finally ceased. Violet conjectured that he had 
fallen asleep from exhaustion, which was indeed 
the case. The repast was at last over — Miss 
Sally withdrew with her visitor to the parlor ; but 
as she was leaving the room, she put her head back 
through the door, and pointing to the last piece of 
plum cake in the dish (the manners piece as it has 
been called, which even Mr. Leroy felt backward 
about taking), and then motioning towards the 
bed-room with very expressive pantomime, she sig- 
nified to Violet that shie was to give that to Captain 
Peter. 


M/SS SALLV^S ACQUAINTANCE. 


31 


Violet nodded that she understood her, and as 
soon as the door closed hastened, only too gladly, 
to obey ; she found Captain Peter asleep on the 
bed, ^ his eyes swollen with crying, a black ring 
round each. She stood gazing at the poor idiot 
with sadness not unmixed with awe. “ God has 
the key of that imprisoned intellect,” thought she, 
“ the soul has not been able to exercise the gift of 
reason in this life, but on that account it is free 
from earthly sin. Perhaps those are blessed who, 
passing through this world of temptation, are born 
into a new scene of existence spotless and pure.” 

Then she thought of the poor mother whose 
hopes, gratified by his birth, had been doomed to 
life-long disappointment, striving day by day with 
smiling face to please him — to arouse, if possible, 
some latent spark of intellect, the while her heart 
was heavy within her. 

Lastly she thought of Miss Sally, who had 
always treated him with so much kindness — tak- 
ing the advice of this chance acquaintance to tor- 
ment him, but who she saw had relented. 

She placed the plate on the bed where Captain 
Peter could see it when he awoke. After finish- 
ing her work she walked out in the grave-yard. 

Its aspect was quite different from that which it 
presented when she first came there, a child ; it 
had been her delight whenever Miss Sally gave 
her a few minutes to walk out, to clear up the neg- 
lected graves, and to plant flowers which she dug 
in the woods, round them. 


32 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


The grave she called her mother’s, was always 
bright with blossoms ; there the early violets shed 
their fragrance ; there the summer roses nodded 
and blushed, and the autumn woodbine wove its 
scarlet wreath. 

It would have gladdened the eyes of Mrs. Har- 
wood, Miss Sally’s mother, to whom Violet seemed 
akin in her tastes, to have seen the grave-yard 
now. Roses bloomed round the little graves, the 
wild clematis hung its silvery wreaths over the old 
tomb, weeping willows propagated from the one 
which had stood there so long, watered with care 
and watched over by Violet, bent with tender 
caressing arms round many mounds as if to screen 
them from harm. 

The old sexton, Ben Coplin, careless of such 
matters himself, was yet willing to take the credit 
of the change ; and when visitors remarked how 
creditable it was to him to have it looking so nice, 
would say in a very modest manner, “ that he 
liked to have things looking trim.” 

The old tomb, holding as many pleasant mem- 
ories, as it would have done had the former occu- 
pant remained there and his busy brain been still 
at work with its life recollections — memories of 
Arthur, his patient teachings, his gentle words, 
and his kind looks ; the old tomb had always been 
kept most neatly swept ; soft green moss covered 
the stones on the outside, sweet-scented vines hung 
in festoons about the door, the wild brier rose 
filled the air with its perfume. 


M/SS SALLY'S ACQC/A/NTANCE. 


133 


Towards this spot Violet directed her steps ; 
there she had often sat calling up old times — those 
pleasant hours never to return. 

She stooped to enter the low door, only too glad 
to get away from Miss Sally and her visitor to 
such a quiet retreat. As she passed in, she caught 
sight of something white lying half hidden under 
the vines upon the ground. She picked it up; it 
was a letter unsealed, addressed to Arthur Cov- 
erly. Esq. She opened it ; a few lines from the 
top she saw her own name. She could not resist 
reading it. It began — “My dear son” (it was 
from Arthur’s mother, then) . “My dear son, I 
received your letter on the 15th. I am happy to 
hear that you are well and that you started in good 
spirits. I am glad you have followed my direc- 
tions in preparing for your voyage ; you will not 
be out at sea long before you will find the benefit 
of them. It is a long time that I shall be parted 
from you, but I rejoice on one account that it is 
so long, and for this reason, the girl you wrote 
me about, this Violet Heath. My dear Arthur, 
are you dreaming, that you fly into such rhapso- 
dies about a girl, who, you confess, lives as a 
dependant in some one’s family? I really thought 
your good judgment would keep you from being 
carried away by a pretty face, and from connect- 
ing yourself with nobody knows who. You ask 
for my consent — never! Choose any one from 
your own station in life, but do not lower yourself 
by a connection to be repented of too late I I live 


134 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


in hope that your tour will correct this foolish 
fancy — for, believe me, fancy it is. Goodby — 
my dear boy, a mother’s love and prayers go with 
you, and till I embrace you again, goodby. 

Your affectionate mother, 

Mary Coverly.” 

Violet clutched the letter nervously in her fingers 
and twisted it round and round, tear after tear fell 
upon it, pale and silent she sat ; the sun had nearly 
set, a few golden arrows still lingered in the tree- 
tops ; heedless of the growing darkness Violet 
remained absorbed in her sad thoughts. This 
was the mother then, of whom he had spoken with 
so much respect and love ! Who despised her 
without knowing her, merely because she was in 
a station of life which she considered low ! “ Had 

it been Alice Hunting,’’ thought she, bitterly, “ I 
suppose it would have suited — but Violet Heath, 
working for her living, no ! ’’ 

Then the confidence that Mrs. Coverly seemed 
to feel that this fancy of iVrthur’s, as she called it, 
would soon pass away. Fancy ! No, it was no 
fancy — it was deep, earnest love ! Had she not 
seen it in his eyes, felt it in the tones of his voice, 
had it not thrilled her when their lips had met at 
parting? 

But would not his mother influence him? She 
knew him only too well to disbelieve it — he would 
not disobey his mother ! After indulging in these 
thoughts, a feeling of distrust entered her mind — 
what if she were mistaken ? He had never told her 


M/SS SALLV^S ACQUAINTAA'CE. 


35 


he loved her — could she be mistaken, blinded by 
her own love ? Might not his affection have been 
that of teacher towards pupil, his words might have 
been as tender, his looks as kind, and his farewell 
greeting as warm. Torn by these conflicting 
thoughts, she at length rose and walked towards 
the house. 

Evening shadows shrouded the grave-yard — 
the willows swayed their long arms threateningly 
across her path, bats flitted to and fro in the dim 
light; everything was in unison with her feelings. 

She entered the house ; Miss Sally, who had 
given up her practice of locking her out, of late 
years, had retired for the night; all was still. 
Violet ascended to her attic chamber to lie down 
and find forgetfulness awhile in sleep. 


36 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

KRIS. 

“ How often I live o’er that blissful time 

When first I found thy love within my breast, 

Like the first violet in April’s prime.” 

will look in once more on the sex- 
ton’s family ; it is the same season in 
which we visited them before ; the 
old cottage, as we have said, looked 
like a large, moss basket, with its thatched roof, 
the vines clambering over and roses blooming 
around it. 

We said we. would look in on the sexton’s family 
— for there is only the wreck of himself remain- 
ing ; drinking has done its work in stupefying the 
brain and weakening the limbs, he is now in a 
state of infantine weakness and partial idiocy. For 
a long time incapable of labor, his place as sexton 
has been filled by a younger man. 

His wife sits working in the neatly sanded 
kitchen; her calm, pale face, placid as the unruf- 
fled sea, like that, bearing no trace of the storms 
that have swept over her life, or of the trials that 
have stirred and saddened the depths of her spirits. 
Ben lies half dozing in an old arm chair at the 
back door, pipe in hand. 



KR/S. 


137 


Kitty, bright, sparkling, roguish Kitty, little 
changed by years, has her seat by the window, 
where she looks up from her embroidery (by which 
she earns something every week in the employ of 
some of the ladies in the village) at every passer- 
by ; her fresh face peeping out from among the 
roses which festoon the diamond windows, one of 
which she has placed coquettishly in her black 
locks. 

“ Kitty,” said her mother, breaking the silence, 
“ take this pillow-case that I have mended and put 
it on Kris’ bed, and you had better shut the west- 
ern blinds and keep the sun out.” 

Kitty tripped lightly up on her errand into Kris’ 
chamber. The roof of the cottage was slanting 
and the chamber rather small, but it had a neat, 
comfortable appearance, and little things notice- 
able in it, showed the occupant to be a person of 
taste. Vases filled with violets were over the 
mantel piece, and on the table. The picture in 
the prayer-book, which Kitty said Kris thought to 
resemble Violet, was hung over the mantel; it had 
been cut out and placed in a pretty cone frame ; a 
sketch of the same, looking rather more life-like 
than the original, lay on Kris’ desk. After Kitty 
had fitted on the pillow-case, she stood for some 
time looking at the sketch, then turned over some 
loose papers ; among them she saw some stanzas 
addressed to Violet. “Violet, Violet, Violet,” 
murmured she, “nothing but Violet. Ah, Kris! 
I know where your heart is.” So saying, Kitty 


38 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


skipped lightly down stairs and took her place by 
the window. 

“ How beautiful everything is, mother, the grass 
looks like velvet where those sheep are feeding — 
the dew-drops on those rose leaves shine like dia- 
monds. I wish they were diamonds,” exclaimed 
she, after looking up from her work and putting 
her head through the open window several times. 

If by these remarks she wished to convey to her 
mother that her mind was engaged in contempla- 
ting nature, she was successful. 

“ Yes, Kitty,” answered good Mrs. Coplin, 
“ God made everything beautiful in its season, 
even the smallest objects in creation ; I am glad 
you find pleasure in looking at His works, for it 
will lead you to think of Him.” 

Ah, sly Kitty ! The diamonds she was gazing 
at were the wicked, black eyes of Dick Wildes, 
who was amusing himself by cantering to and fro 
through the shady lane, making his horse curvet 
and prance when he passed the cottage, exciting 
Kitty’s fears for his safety, making her turn pale 
and tremble over her work — then curbing him 
with the skill of a master hand, smiling and touch- 
ing his cap to her, riding past only to return and 
renew the feat. 

Yes, Dick looked handsome with his black curls 
clustering round his green velvet riding cap, his 
cheeks flushed with exercise, his eyes flashing with 
pleasureable excitement, his fine form and well- 
shaped limbs displayed to the best advantage. 


KR/S. 


139 


Our readers may wonder to find Kitty and Dick 
on such familiar terms when we left them at vari- 
ance in the wood. 

The way it came about, was this. When Dick 
met Kitty, after the adventure in the wood, he 
spoke to her with the air of an old acquaintance, as 
if nothing unpleasant had happened. Kitty replied 
in a sharp, repulsive, scolding way ; this seemed 
to amuse him ; and nothing daunted he saluted 
her at every meeting, each time growing more 
respectful and attentive in his manners. Kitty 
softened down somewhat after a while. 

Dick, seeing this, began to wait upon her short 
distances, and by and by he saw' that she accepted 
his attendance with pleasure. 

Then came secret interviews and long walks 
amid the shady, blooming lanes, with whispered 
vows. But Dick only waited upon her in secret, 
mostly at night, and in private places. In the day- 
time he was the gallant of Miss Alice Hunting, the 
squire’s daughter. 

Poor infatuated Kitty ! So wanting in her old 
spirit to allow this ! But blinded by love, she was 
ever making excuses for him in her mind. 

And Kris, wha*t did Kris think of all this? He 
knew nothing of it. 

Kris had growm up a thoughtful young man of 
good principle ; serious and studious from a boy, 
he had passed through his school days bearing 
away the highest honors in the district school he 
attended, receiving as he grew older, private 


140 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


instruction in the classics from the teacher, who 
was a college graduate and who looked on Kris’ 
aspirations after knowledge with a friend’s sym- 
pathy. 

Kris was now teacher of the same school with a 
moderate salary, but it was enough to support his 
father’s family. Kitty, who did not like to be 
dependant, worked as we have said for some of 
the ladies in the village. 

Kris partook of the thoughtful, religious nature 
of his mother ; his mind was almost wholly 
absorbed in his books — almost wholly, we say, for 
there was one, who had ever shared his thoughts 
from the first moment he saw her, Violet. 

She realized his dreams of angels ; she appeared 
to him almost too beautiful and good for this earth ; 
anything that reminded him of her was cherished 
and preserved ; the first spring violets with their 
delicate, fragrant breath were gathered before the 
buds were scarcely opened ; his room was redo- 
lent of them, all the while they were in bloom, 
and faded bunches of them still remained there 
when the season was past. So any flowers she 
had presented him in their walks were preserved 
as relics. The proudest hour of fiis life he remem- 
bered as the time when he had stood sentinel by 
the old tomb and guarded her sleep. 

His ambition now was to lay up something apart 
from the family’s expenses, for the future. How 
many times had he been on the point of telling his 


KRIS. 


41 


feelings and his hopes — and yet he had never 
revealed them ! 

So itw^entonin the sexton’s family, love beckoned 
two hearts different ways ; one towards beauty and 
purity, ennobling the one who cherished it, even 
if he might never hope for a return ; — the other 
towards an ignis-fatuus, that burning but to 
betray, would lead its victim over the marshes of 
deceit and despondency to land it — where? 

Ah, poor Kitty ! Who that looked upon her 
that summer afternoon, could help thinking of a 
fair rose-bud plucked by a careless hand from a 
parent tree and after its perfume had been tasted, 
thrown carelessly away, trodden under the heel of 
the traveller — no beauty to attract, no fragrance 
to charm, no memory of its loveliness remaining. 

Alas, poor Kitty ! God save thee from the fate 
of how niany thousands. 


142 


A STRAATGE DlSCLOSVRh. 


CHAPTER XIV, 

PARSON GOSSPER INTERESTED IN VIOLET. 

“ Farewell! Perchance some happier love 
May win thee for his bride.” 

RE’S an invitation for you,” said Miss 
Sally to Violet, as the latter entered 
the house. “ It’s a billet from Par- 
son Gossper to me, and he says in it, 
that he’d like to have you come to 
the parsonage to-night at seven o’clock — now I 
can’t think what he wants of you, but whatever he 
wants, I shall agree to it, because I have great 
faith in his good judgment — and I think it’s an 
honor for you to get such an invitation.” 

“ I should like to know what I am going for — ” 
answered Violet. 

There were no very pleasant associations in her 
mind connected with the minister ; when she first 
came to Miss Sally’s, a small child, she remem- 
bered watching him with awe and dread as he 
conversed with her mistress, and how, when she 
thought herself unnoticed, she had crept softly out 
of the room into the grave-yard, even if it were 
twilight, preferring the compan}^ of the tomb- 
stones, despite her fear of the spirits Miss Sally 
had threatened her with, to the pale, ghostly face 
of the minister. 



PARSON GOSSPER INTERESTED. 


143 


It will be remembered that when the parson met 
Violet coming from the wood he was struck by her 
beauty and inquired her name. 

After this he seemed to take quite a fancy to her, 
and whenever he saw her at Miss Sally’s tried to 
engage her in conversation. But the fancy was 
all on one side ; Violet was timid and retiring, 
indeed she seemed to be repelled by the very efforts 
made to please her. 

“ I’m sure,” returned Miss Sally in answ’er to 
her remark, “ I don’t know what he wants any 
more than you do, but you’d better go.” 

It was with no very pleasant feelings that Violet 
set out on her visit ; Miss Sally had charged her to 
be there in time and not keep the parson waiting. 

At six o’clock she left the house ; this would 
give her ample time to reach the parsonage if she 
walked slowly, which she did, loitering along the 
lanes, looking over into the sexton’s garden, chat- 
ing with Kitty — then stopping a few minutes at 
Mrs. Truepenny’s to talk to Jennie. 

But notwithstanding her loitering and stopping, 
she at length reached the little brown house, look- 
ing the same as we last saw it, bare and desolate 
with high, gray rocks rising behind it. 

She rang several times before she succeeded in 
rousing the deaf house-keeper ; after a while she 
made her appearance, peering cautiously out of a 
crack of the door ; seeing Violet she opened it 
wider. 


144 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“ O, it’s you! He’s been specting of you; 
you’re a purty creeter, ” continued the old woman 
stroking back Violet’s curls with her skinny, shriv- 
elled fingers, “ but,” she added sharply, “ no pur- 
tier than I was, when I was young, at least his 
father alius said I was jerking her finger towards 
the study where the minister was supposed to be — 
“ mebbe you think ’twas a long time ago, and I’m 
pretty old, don’t you?” 

“How old are you. Miss Skillings?” asked 
Violet, making a vain effort to turn Miss Skill- 
ings’ thoughts in another direction than herself. 

“ Cold?” screamed the housekeeper, “yes, it’s 
rather cold nights now, when it gets to be this 
time.” 

“Tasked you how old you were?” repeated 
Violet, in a lighter tone. 

“ Old ! ” said Miss Skillings, “ I ain’t quite as old 
as Methusaler — but mebbe,” she continued in a 
wheedling voice, “ mebbe you’ll tell me what 
you’ve come here for? ” 

“ I don’t know, myself,” answered Violet. 

“Don’t know!” repeated the housekeeper, 
“ mebbe you’ve come to tell your experience and 
jine the church — the parson has a good many 
ladies come to see him, to tell their experiences, 
and they’re with him alone a good while too, shut 
up in the parlor, telling of their speriences, he, he, 
he,” and the old woman chuckled and laughed, 
as if the idea was very amusing to her; “but, 
come along ! ” she added, “ his spectin of you.” 


PARSON GOSSPER INTERESTED. 


145 


She led the way through the entry towards the 
study — it was not the usual reception room, but 
Miss Skillings had had her orders to bring the 
visitor there. 

At the housekeepers knock, Mr. Gossper 
opened the door — “Ah, Miss Heath, good even- 
ing ; hope I see you well,” and the door was 
closed after her. 

Miss Skillings stood in the entry with her 
finger on her lips — then she walked back to the 
study door and bent her ear cautiously towards the 
key hole — after remaining in a listening attitude 
for some time, she went softly back to the kitchen. 

“ It’s too bad,” mumbled she, sitting down and 
rocking herself to and fro, “ I couldn’t catch a 
word — but ’tain’t cause I’m deaf ! ” holding her 
head erect as if confronting some unseen accuser, 
“ my hearing’s as good as ever it was, it’s because 
he’s a speaking so soft and low ; that’s the way 
his father used to speak to me. I wonder what 
he’s saying to her? he, he, he, — telling speriences, 
he, he, he ! She’s a purty creetur, but no purtier 
than I was, when I was young, he alius said so, 
let’s have a look now — ’’and she reached down 
the small glass that hung over the kitchen table ; 
she turned it several ways, then went nearer to the 
window, “ tain’t cause my eyes are poor ! They’re 
as good as ever they were, but they don’t make 
mirrors as well as they used to.” 

To return to the study — its sombre, gloomy 
aspect struck a chill over Violet’s heart as she 


146 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


entered ; the slate and black marble floor felt like 
ice under her feet — a strange feeling of awe came 
over her as she looked at the altar-like table with 
its black drapery and burning candles, its solemn 
crucifix and at the pictures of suffering martyrs 
portrayed in their agony around the walls. 

The face of the minister, regular and beautiful 
in its features, but O — how white and icy in its 
lack of color, his bright eyes, contrary to his usual 
custom, gazing earnestly at her, filled her with 
confusion ; she cast down her eyes. 

Then it was that his voice as he commenced 
speaking, sweet, persuasive, yet full and power- 
ful, reassured her. 

“ Miss Heath, I have a proposition to make you ; 
I have been informed by Miss Harwood that your 
education has not been neglected, that young Mr. 
Coverly, a medical student connected with the 
institution near her house, has given you instruc- 
tion in the common branches (Violet gave a 
start, then Miss Sally knew of her meetings with 
Arthur I) ; supposing that your course of study has 
not been very extensive and feeling an interest in 
you, I have sent for you this evening, to propose 
giving you a course of readings from celebrated 
writers, as I think such a course will improve your 
mind.” 

“ I should be most happy,” answered Violet, 
“ to take such a course, and I feel very grateful 
for the interest you have shown in me.” 

“ Perhaps it would be as well to commence this 


PARSOA^ GOSSPER INTERESTED. 


147 


evening,” continued the minister; “here are two 
copies of the ‘ British poets.’ Have you ever read 
Rogers’ ‘ Italy? ’ ” 

“ No, sir,” replied Violet. 

“It is the privilege of the reader,” added the 
minister, “ to travel in imagination, without leaving 
his own fireside ; and if he be a person of cultiva- 
tion and taste, he will enjoy and appreciate a 
country while in his own room perusing a well- 
written, lively volume of travels, more than a dull, 
commonplace, ignorant person would, passing 
through the most charming regions. We will 
then commence with Rogers’ ‘Italy,’” continued 
he, handing her one of the volumes of poems — 
“ Rogers, as a poet, though he never soars as high 
as some, is remarkable for the elegance and grace 
of his writings, — we will commence with ‘ The 
Lake of Geneva.’ ” 

“ Day glimmered in the east, and the white moon 
Hung like a vapor in the cloudless sky, 

Yet visible, when on my way I went. 

Glad to be gone — a pilgrim from the north. 

Now more and more attracted as I drew 
Nearer and nearer.” 

We have said that the minister’s voice reassured 
her, it did more, it thrilled, it fascinated her. As 
he read these beautiful lines, Violet seemed to feel 
the force of a new revelation, the power of the 
human voice ! She had thought Arthur a beauti- 
ful reader — but reading was not to be his voca- 
tion. His hand and eye were to be trained to use 


48 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


the surgeon’s knife. Now she perceived what a 
wonderful instrument the cultivated human voice 
was ! She seemed to be transplanted to the beau- 
tiful lake, floating on its bosom, seeing, “ a thous- 
and shadows of a thousand hues, chequering the 
clear expanse ; ” hearing the waves making wild 
music with the pebbles on the beach ; seeing the 
fisher with his dotted line fishing in silence, and 
peasant girls with fruits and flowers seen through 
the silvery haze, or damsels weaving fishing nets, 
singing their national songs by the wayside. 

This was a pleasant picture, and the minister’s 
musical voice lent an added charm to the illusion 
of the moment ; but soon the voice changed to 
grieving sadness and tenderness as it told of, 

“ That dungeon fortress never to be named, 

Where like a lion taken in the toils, 

Toussaint breathed out his brave and generous spirit ! ” 

The tender melancholy of his voice affected her 
deeply ; tears began to fill her e3^es, she brushed 
them hastily away, again they gathered ; she 
glanced upward to see if the minister was looking, 
fearful of her tears being observed. He was not, 
and a sight of his rigid, icy, passionless face in 
such grim contrast to his flexible voice, did more 
towards checking any show of her feelings than a 
reproof. She sat gazing at his cold, ffxed expres- 
sion ; it reminded her of the snow-covered moun- 
tain, where no step of traveller has trodden ; no 
trace of human foot-print, or human weakness has 


PARSON GOSSPER INTERESTED. 


149 


made its mark — and the voice was like a lively, 
laughing rivulet stealing from the ice-berg ; now 
prattling along mid the flowers at its foot, now 
weeping over the uprooted trees and bruised foli- 
age on the rocky ledges. When the minister had 
finished, he made Violet read it over aloud, giving 
her instructions in elocution, showing her how to 
bring out the meaning of the expression, how to 
use the right inflections with the best effect — 
stopping to talk about and explain the incidents of 
the poem. An hour had , expired — the clock 
struck ! all romance was over ; the sombre room 
with its chilling atmosphere was all she saw, the 
cold, icy countenance, the altered voice expressing 
regret that the time had expired, and telling her 
on what evening she could come again, requesting 
her politely to take one of the volumes of poems 
and read it over before her next visit. 

O, that unmovable face ! and yet she could not 
forget that the beautiful voice was within, as if it 
were an imprisoned echo of beautiful things with- 
out, still answering to the outward call. 

“ Miss Skillings, Miss Skillings,” cried the 
parson in a loud tone for his housekeeper to show 
Violet out. 

No Miss Skillings answered. 

“Asleep, I suppose, in her chair. This way, 
Miss Heath, a beautiful starlight evening,” said 
he ; “ shall you be afraid ? ” 

“O no, sir,” replied Violet, “not in the least. 
Good evening, sir.” 


150 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


Thoughts of Miss Peace Penniman, her first 
benefactress, had always filled Violet’s mind. The 
thought that Lizzie Prime knew all about Miss 
Peace, but would have nothing to say to her, filled 
her with sadness. Still she had a lingering feel- 
ing that Lizzie might relent ; this led her, when 
she left the Parsonage, to walk round by Widow 
Scrubb’s shop. It was brilliantly illuminated, as 
are all. those dens where poison is sold, and where 
foolish men, attracted by the glare, fly round them 
like the giddy moth until consumed in the flames 
from which they are, how soon, powerless to 
escape ! Violet saw Lizzie through the window, 
her showy face and full figure arrayed to the best 
advantage to attract customers ; her dress was cut 
low in the neck, and a large pair of gilt ear-rings 
dangled from her ears. She was mixing a glass 
of spirit for a customer, and as Violet drew nearer 
she saw it was Dick Wildes. The windows were 
open, and their conversation was distinctly heard. 
Taking the glass from Lizzie and holding it 
between his eye and the light, he took a sip. 

“ You ’ve hit it exactly, fair one.” 

“It would be strange if I didn’t know your 
taste by this time,” answered Lizzie ; “ I ’ve mixed 
it for you times enough, goodness knows ! ” 

“That’s a fact, I’ll swear,” said Dick, “here’s 
your reward,” holding up the glass. “ Here’s to 
the prettiest girl in Chester,” nodding to her and 
beginning to drink. “ Hold there !” cried Lizzie, 
“ before you drink that health, tell me what you 


PARSON GOSS PER INTERESTED. 151 

mean by waiting upon Kitty Coplin so much, and 
you’ve told folks you think her handsome, too.” 

“I think she’s a silly little fool,” interrupted 
Dick, “ and I only go with her to amuse myself.” 

Violet waited to hear no more, but started off 
quickly on her way. She knew that Dick had 
waited upon Kitty, she^ had remonstrated with 
her for allowing it ; now she felt that she must see 
Kitty before she slept. She took a nearer way to 
the sexton’s cottage, which led across a narrow 
bridge that spanned the river ; the road was lined 
with trees, forming a shady walk of a warm sum- 
mer’s day. 

It looked lonely now in the starlight. As she 
neared the bridge she saw a figure standing upon 
it, leaning over the railing. It was Kitty, who, 
hearing the sound of footsteps, rushed eagerly 
forward — she was evidently disappointed in find- 
ing it was Violet. After the usual affectionate 
greeting, Violet told her all she had seen and 
heard. 

Kitty appeared troubled, but tried to turn it off 
lightly. “ I can’t believe it, you did n’t hear quite 
straight ; and as to Dick’s drinking, almost all the 
young men drink a little ; I don’t believe he ever 
drinks too much.” 

“ O Kitty ! ” said Violet, “ did you never see a 
person drink year after year, until he had no com- 
mand over his appetite, but kept on with brutal 
insensibility, while his wife pined away in sadness 
and his children could only gaze at him with dis- 


10 


152 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


gust, when they might have looked up to him with 
love and reverence? ” 

“ I know whom you mean,” said Kitty. “ You 
mean father, but I don’t think it’s very kind of you 
to bring up his failings to me ; and it is n’t at all 
likely that Dick will ever be in the condition he is 
in, and I can’t credit a word of it; and I believe 
you only told me because your friend, Mr. Cov- 
erly, has finished his studies and left the village.” 

“ Has he?” cried Violet. “ When?” 

“ Yes,” replied Kitty, spitefully, “he has, and 
1 guess it’s the last you ’ll ever see of him ! ” 

“ It’s no use talking, Kitt}^” said Violet, after a 
pause, “ what I said to you was only in kindness. 
Goodby, Kitty.” 

“ Goodby,” said Kitty, who during the course of 
the conversation had seemed uneasy and impa- 
tient, turning her head every few minutes to look 
up the lane for one — alas, poor Kitty — who had 
no thought of her, sunk in a drunken sleep on a 
bench in Widow Scrubb’s shop ! ” 

Violet went on her way, her mind filled with 
conflicting thoughts — sorry for Kitty’s delusion, 
her love given to such worthlessness, and sorrow 
for herself, as she thought of Arthur’s departure 
without seeing her. 

As she turned the lane leading to Miss Sally’s 
she met Kris walking with firm, elastic step. 
“Ah, good evening. Miss Heath; out alone and 
it’s getting rather late ! I must constitute myself 
your protector,” and, lowering his voice, which 


PARSON GOSSPER INTERESTED. 


153 


trembled with emotion, “ would that I might be 
your protector through life ! ” Then followed an 
ardent declaration of his feelings from the time he 
first knew her until now. Violet was confused, 
overwhelmed, distressed ! She had not dreamed of 
this — she had thought of Kris only as a brother ; 
her associations with him had always been pleasant 
and friendly. She told him so at last, seeking, 
with all the kind words she could, to soften the 
blow which she knew a person of his deep emotions 
and sensitive nature must feel at the disappointment 
of a long cherished hope. 

He received this with a kind of sober sadness, as 
if he felt her decision to be unalterable, and 
parted from her, saying, as he shook hands at the 
gate, “ Friends then, at least, if no more ! ” 


154 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE WEDDING. 

“ ’Twas the doubt that thou wert false, ■ 
That wrung my heart with pain.” 


)LET,” said Miss Sally one morning, 
as they were both hard at work in the 
kitchen, “ I’ve got something to tell 
you.” 

Violet looked up inquiringly. 

Miss Sally kept on with her work sometime in 
silence, then she jerked out, “ La, I did n’t think I 
should feel so bashful about telling of it,” and she 
simpered and looked very foolish ; at last she 
communicated her news. “ I’m engaged to be 
married to Mr. Leroy ; he’s in an awful hurry, 
and all the time pestering me to set the day, ever 
since he said I made him the happiest of men by 
saying ‘Yes.’ I don’t know how to put him off; 
I can’t say I aint got things ready, for you know 
I’ve had everything ready years ago.” 

This was indeed true, for Miss Sally, like the 
rest of the country girls where she lived, ever 
since she was sixteen years old had been getting 
ready to be married. Piles of undergarments, 
pillow cases, sheets, counterpanes had accumulated 
from year to year ; taken out of the trunks occa- 



THE WEDDING. 


155 


sionally to be washed, whitened, and ironed, and 
then laid away again to their cozy sleep between 
layers of rosemary, lavender, and other sweet 
herbs. She had also several feather beds, a num- 
ber of braided mats, and many articles of kitchen 
furniture, all waiting the expected bridegroom. 

They had waited a great many years, to be 
sure ; acquaintance after acquaintance had been 
married, and Miss Sally, like the “ Last Rose of 
Summer,” remained on the tree ; but the expected 
bridegroom had now come, and after communicat- 
ing her news, she turned to Violet with a look of 
satisfaction upon her excited face, and said, “ Don’t 
you think I’m lucky in my old age ? ” 

Violet felt that Miss Sally was far from lucky, 
but she contented herself with asking, “ Do you 
think that Mr. Leroy is all he says he is? ” 

“ To be sure I do,” answered Miss Sally, “ who 
put that into your head? I should as soon think 
of doubting — why — Parson Gossper ! as I should 
Mr. Leroy. If he had n’t told me, I should know 
that he had been brought up a gentleman by his 
manners and conversation.” 

Violet said no more ; she had her own thoughts 
about it, however, and dreaded the approaching 
marriage. Miss Sally had said she was all ready ; 
no one would have thought so if they could have 
looked into the house for the next fortnight. 

Every room was cleaned, the parlor carpet . 
shaken, the floors of the other rooms scoured and 
neatly sanded in the most approved pattern, the 


156 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


paint cleaned, the windows washed, the curtains 
taken down, whitened, washed, ironed, and put up 
again ; and to crown the whole. Miss Sally under- 
took to bake a large wedding cake, for she said 
though the wedding was to be at the church, she 
might have callers at the house, and she would 
not be so mean as not to have a piece of cake to 
offer them. 

During all this preparation Mr. Leroy made 
himself quite at home — indeed, he acted like the 
master of the house ; the preparations were made 
larger by his visits, for they were suspended to 
cook up niceties for his appetite. 

But if his arrival gave pleasure to Miss Sally, 
it was far otherwise with poor Captain Peter. Mr. 
Leroy insisted on the diet he had prescribed. 
Captain Peter resisted with all his might, and that 
was little except his voice ; the result was a con- 
tinued struggle between the parties. Miss Sally, 
although she felt some compunction at first at the 
course, had yielded to Mr. Leroy, and assented to 
everything he said. Poor Captain Peter being 
starved into submission, ate his dry bread, but he 
ate very little ; having little appetite for such fare, 
he grew thinner and thinner, until he became but 
the wreck of his former self. His tormentor 
showed no pity for him, buf rather enjoyed tanta- 
lizing him by eating all the delicacies Miss Sally 
had cooked, before him, while he tried to mumble 
his dry bread, looking with longing eyes at the 
dishes ; but fear had taught him a lesson. 


THE WEDDING. 


57 


The wedding day at last arrived. The wedding 
was to be early in the morning, for Mr. Leroy 
said he didn’t care about being “gawked at.” 
Miss Sally would have preferred having it later, 
so that all the neighbors could have attended, but 
her wishes were not consulted ; indeed, she began 
to have a faint perception that Mr. Leroy liked his 
own convenience and pleasure more than hers. 
Mr. Leroy had told her that he owned a fine 
country residence, that his family lived in it, and 
that he should take her there after they were 
married, on a tower as he called it. Accordingly 
after they reached home at the close of the cere- 
mony, Mr. Leroy got out his horse, harnessed 
him in an old chaise that looked as if it had seen 
its best days, when Miss Sally, arrayed in all the 
glory of a bright flowered muslin gown looped 
up with pink ribbons, a thin, rice-straw bonnet 
trimmed with white and having a large, white veil 
tied on the front as befitted a bride, jumped in, 
and off they drove. Mr. Leroy seemed strangely 
absent-minded as they rode along, and made no 
effort to entertain the newly made bride. In answer 
to Miss Sally’s inquiry as to where his folks lived, 
he gruffly replied, “ that she’d find out when she 
got there.” 

They journeyed on and on through the woods, 
Mr. Leroy continuing in a moody silence, and 
Miss Sally, getting sleepy, nodded and jammed 
her new, thin bonnet against the side of the chaise. 
It took her some time to bend it right ; after she 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


158 


had done this, she again became sleepy, and 
finally fell into an uneasy doze. How long she 
slumbered she did not know, but a sudden jerk of 
the chaise going over a stone roused her. In the 
uncertain state between sleeping and waking she 
thought she saw a strange phenomenon, her beloved 
Frederick making faces at her and imitating her 
sleepy nods ! but when she became fully awake, 
she saw that he looked as abstracted and silent as 
ever, so she concluded that it must be a mistake. 

She had been looking out at every handsome 
house that they passed, thinking each might be the 
country residence ; but he gave no sign of stopping 
until near dark, when he drew up before an old, 
black, one story and a half house, which looked 
as near tumbling down as it could and yet keep up. 

“ This,” said Mr. Leroy, finding his tongue at 
last, “ is the residence of my venerable mother ” — 
he was interrupted by a tow-headed youth of six- 
teen running out and coming alongside the chaise. 

“ Well, old feller,” said he, addressing Miss 
Sally’s husband, “you’re home at last — got a 
passenger, hey? ” 

“ This, Dolph,” said Mr. Lero}^ in a manner 
he intended for impressive, “ is a new sister-in-law 
I ’ve brought home for a visit.” 

“ Haw, haw, haw,” roared Dolph, “ a new 
mother you mean — by golly, she looks as old as 
the hills for all her gew-gaws ! ” 

“ Frederick,” interrupted Miss Sally, “ will you 
sit here and hear me insulted?” 


THE WEDDING. 


159 


“ Shet up yer mouth, Dolph,” answered her 
husband, as he alighted and helped his wife out, 
“shet up yer mouth and look after the team! 
You stay out here a piece, while I go in and 
find the folks,” added he to Miss Sally, for the 
thought evidently struck him he ’d better prepare 
them for her reception. 

As Miss Sally stood there looking at the old, 
tumble-down house and still more dilapidated barn, 
she could not help thinking that the country resi- 
dence she had heard so much about was not all 
she had imagined it, and a feeling of doubt as to 
Mr. Leroy’s relations ' insinuated itself into her 
unwilling mind, as she paced to and fro on the 
green in front of the door. 

Her husband soon came out and invited her in. 
If she was not pleased with the outside, she was 
still less with the interior ; bare as poverty and 
shiftlessness could make it, it looked hardly a fit 
abode for human beings. An old table in the 
centre of the room contained the supper, fried 
bacon and corn cakes, lying on two earthern-ware 
dishes; there were no plates, no knives, no forks. 

The occupants of the room were an old woman, 
pale and thin, with sandy hair combed and tied 
back so tight that her eyes looked as if they were 
starting from their sockets ; her dress was of the 
coarsest kind of cloth, but looked clean ; she was 
engaged at this moment in placing a rickety chair 
at the table. Two gawky, clownish looking young 
men lounged on an old settle at the fire, while two 


6o 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


ferocious dogs crouched on the hearth before them. 
The old woman dropped the chair and came for- 
ward, extending her hand with great cordiality. 

“ How d’ye do, daughter? glad to see ye now 
ye ’ve married my Frederick ; ye ’ve got a tip top 
husband — there ’s nobody kin beat him for smart- 
ness ; ” then turning to the young men, she added, 
“ Come, Minadab and Joshephat, speak to yer 
sister, can’t ye?” They got up, gave an awkward 
scrape, stood a few minutes as if they didn’t know 
what to say, then whistling to the dogs, they beat 
a hasty retreat from the room, slamming the door 
after them. 

“Yer must excuse Mindab and Josh, they never 
had the advantages as Frederick has; he ’s trav- 
eled, ye know, all round the country, and I must 
say traveling do polish up a person ’mazin — but 
come, set up and hev some supper ; yer kin lay 
yer bunnet and things in here,” opening the door 
of a small bedroom adjoining. 

As Miss Sally stood in the bedroom alone, tak- 
ing off her things, she gave a deep drawn sigh ; 
how much of disappointed hope it breathed forth 
was known only to herself, but it was evident that 
Miss Sally had suspicions, at least, that she wasn’t 
so very lucky in her old age after all. 

She went back into the room and took her place 
at the table in a chair which old Mrs. Leroy had 
placed for her. “ Help yerself,” said the old lady, 
“ I s’pose yer ’mazin hungry after sich a long 
ride.” Then she took a piece of the corn bread in 


THE WEDDING. i6i 


one hand and a slice of the bacon in the other, 
and nodded to Miss Sally to follow her example. 

Her son needed no invitation, but had already 
made a fierce onslaught on the eatables ; seeing 
Miss Sally hesitated, he paused — “ When yer 
in Rome, do as the Romans do — when yer in 
Turkey, do as the Turkeys do,” then he went on 
with his meal. 

Miss Sally forced herself to take a piece of the 
corn bread and a bit of the bacon, but she made a 
meagre supper, and could not help contrasting in 
her mind her own neatly set table and the many 
delicacies she had prepared for Mr. Leroy and 
placed before him with so much pride — and this 
was her supper on her wedding day ! 

Mr. Leroy was not at all troubled. He ate 
delicacies when he could get them and coarse food 
when he couldn’t. He made a pause to remark, 
“This is jest the fare for Captain Peter — this 
would build him up in no time ; spose we was to 
board him out here a month or two.” 

“I’m afraid he couldn’t bear the journey,” 
said Miss Sally, “ he is n’t very well.” 

“ He’d be well enough, get him out here and 
let him smell of the pine woods,” answered her 
husband, “ and now we’ve got through I’ll show 
you round the farm.” 

Miss Sally pinned her handkerchief over her 
head and followed Frederick out. She was shown 
first several fields of vegetables, a cranberry 
meadow, and a wood lot. 


62 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


“ Now,” said Mr. Leroy, ‘‘ come over the hill, 
the best sight’s this side.” 

Then he led her through several fields ; at the 
turning of the lane at the end of them they came 
in sight of a large, handsomely built house, sur- 
rounded by shrubbery. Handsome flower gardens 
were round it, and beautiful humming birds and 
others of brilliant plumage flew up at every step 
they took ; the gravelled walks were in perfect 
order, the hedges neatly trimmed ; there was a 
large greenhouse adjoining the house, part a 
grapery and part for flowers. One of the grav- 
elled walks led along a neatly shaven lawn to a 
pond, on which w^as a handsome boat; swans 
were sailing round the pond amid the lilies that 
bloomed on its surface. Miss Sally was delighted 
— nay more — enchanted. 

“ Whose beautiful place is this? ” inquired she. 

“ It’s mine,” said Mr. Leroy; “ I thought I ’d 
surprise ye. Mother’s very eccentric and won’t 
live on ’t, so we let it ; the family ’s away now, 
ye see. One of these days, when I ’ve made 
as much money as I want to, I shall bring you 
here to live.” 

“ How soon will that be? ” asked Miss Sally. 

“ Dunno. I need a large sum of money to 
carry on the business I want to. If I only had a 
large sum I could make twenty thousand dollars 
next month, but I ain’t got it, so I’ll have to go 
along as I can — so I can’t ’zactly tell when we ’ll 
come here.” 


THE WEDDING. 


163 


Strange to say, Miss Sally believed all he said, 
and went back to the little, old house quite con- 
tented. “ Who’d think,” said she to herself, “ that 
they own all that grand place and live in such a 
miserable, mean way — well it takes all sorts of 
folks to make a world.” 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


164 


CHAPTER XVI. 

READINGS FROM THE POETS APPLIED. 

“ Loved of my soul, this heart of mine, 

I give to thee — O give me thine ! ” 

»S Sally’s ride home at the expiration 
of a week was rather pleasanter than 
her ride out. Frederick had got over 
his fit of abstraction, and made him- 
self very agreeable, which no one 
could do better than himself when he felt like it. 

So Miss Sally arrived home in high spirits, pre- 
pared to receive her callers. She took out her 
large wedding cake, and began to cut it into slices. 

“What are ye doing there?” inquired Mr. 
Leroy. 

“ Cutting up some cake against callers begin to 
come in.” 

“ Wedding cake for callers !” echoed Mr. Leroy, 
“All tarnation nonsense ! Keep yer wedding cake, 
I tell ye, for the family’s use (the family’s use 
meant his) ; ef ye have a caller and she don’t get 
no wedding cake, and she goes away and tells 
on’t, why, ef another comes to see ye, ye’ll know 
she comes out of pure disinterestedness, that’s all.” 

Miss Sally knew that his word was law, and 
received her callers without daring to offer them 



READINGS EROM THE POETS APPLIED. 165 


any cake. They went away, as she knew they 
would, and called her a mean, old thing. The cake 
was eaten up by Mr. Leroy at supper time for a 
week afterward. Mr. Leroy was now the master of 
the house ; Miss Sally was like a zero on the 
wrong side of the point — of no consequence. 

Captain Peter was pining away, and no one 
pitied him except Violet, and she could do nothing 
for him. She pitied herself also; Miss Sally had 
proved a hard mistress, but Mr. Leroy proved a 
harder master. Her days were embittered by 
hard exactions and low, petty insults ; her nights 
were passed in weeping ; she felt lonely, friend- 
less, forsaken. 

She had had no tidings of Arthur since he left 
the village. The thought that he was traveling in 
foreign lands, seeing everything that was beautiful 
in nature and wonderful in art, forgetful of her, 
was bitter in the extreme ; leaving the village also 
(if it were true that he loved her) without any 
explicit declaration of his feelings — was it gen- 
erous? It could not be that he loved her; he 
never would have left her in this uncertainty. 
These were some of the thoughts that filled her 
nights with sadness, for the day, full of petty 
trials, did not offer much time for reffection. 

Besides this, she felt she was not wanted in the 
house ; if she had not ventured to speak against 
Captain Peter’s treatment (knowing it would be 
useless), she had looked all the indignation she 
felt ; this was resented by Mr. Leroy a thousand- 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


1 66 


fold. She saw that Miss Sally was glad of any 
excuse to have her leave the house. 

The only pleasant moments she experienced at 
this time were those she spent at Parson Gossper’s 
at the readings. But these were destined to end in 
a way she had not imagined and of which she did 
not dream. 

One evening, as she was on her way to the Par- 
sonage, she stopped into Mrs. Truepenny’s, as she 
often did when she had the time, to see Jennie. 
Jennie had grown quite a woman ; fair and delicate 
as ever, the same sweet smile rested on her face. 
She was engaged, to Violet’s surprise, with a 
book, which she seemed to be reading. “You 
reading, Jennie ! ” exclaimed Violet, as soon as 
she saw it. 

“ Trying to,” said Jennie, with a smile. “ Young 
Mr. Coplin has been so kind as to get me an 
alphabet prepared for blind folks and to teach me 
my letters, and now I have begun to read.” 

“ It was very kind of him,” answered Violet. 
“Good Kris,” thought she to herself, “he does 
not spend his time in pining over the disappoint- 
ment I have caused him, but goes about doing 
good.” 

“Where is Mr. Van ZefFer now?” she asked, 
“ I haven’t seen him this some time.” 

“ O,” cried Jennie, “he’s had a better place 
offered him as organist in Melville, and has been 
there this three weeks.” 

Violet sighed — another friend lost I 


READINGS FROM THE POETS APPLIED. 167 


She pursued her way on leaving Jennie, indulg- 
ing in a train of sorrowful reflections, for she had 
been thinking lately that perhaps Mr. Van Zefler 
would get her a situation, as he had once sug- 
gested, and she could leave the house by the 
grave-yard, which was now becoming every day 
more and more unpleasant for her. 

The only drawback to the pleasure of the read- 
ings as yet had been Miss Skillings — her garrulous 
talk and inquisitive manner had troubled Violet. 
At last she thought of a way to check it, and assum- 
ing a haughty manner foreign to her nature, she 
had at the last meeting completely awed the old 
woman, and stopped her questions ; but her inquisi- 
tiveness remained unsatisfied — she had not found 
out the reason for Violet’s visits. She did not dare 
ask Parson Gossper, and she could get no satisfac- 
tion from her, but she was determined to find out. 

Parson Gossper, pitying her deafness,, had 
bought her lately an ear-trumpet; and armed with 
this, as' soon as Violet was admitted to the study 
and the door closed, she stationed herself at the 
key-hole, fitted one end of the ear-trumpet to that 
aperture and the other end to her ear, at the immi- 
nent risk of having it thrust into it farther than she 
would like should the door be opened suddenly. 

The course of the readings had embraced most 
of the poets and many of the prose writers of 
England. They had now for a few evenings 
taken Shakespeare’s plays ; this evening the play 
was “ Romeo and Juliet.” Parson Gossper had 


11 


1 68 A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 

•selected Scene Second — In the Garden. Violet 
thought that he threw more warmth and tender- 
ness into his voice than the occasion warranted 
•when he read — 

‘ ‘ Alack ! there lies more peril in thine eye 
Than twenty of their swords.” 

At first she thought this was her own excited 
fancy ; but again, when they had read on, she felt 
this was no imagining as he read, 

“ And but thou love me, let them find me here ; 

My life were better ended by their hate, 

Than death prorogued wanting of thy love.” 

At length when Violet read the question of 
Juliet, 

‘ ‘ What satisfaction canst thou have to-night ? ” 

she was startled — nay more, frightened — by the 
usually calm, passionless Parson Gossper bending 
across the table, seizing her hand which lay on 
her book, and giving the answer, while he gazed 
into her eyes with his whole soul expressed on his 
heretofore expressionless countenance, 

“ The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine ! ” 

Then he burst forth with an avowal of a long 
cherished love in an ardent, winning, yet irresist- 
ibly commanding way, like one whom it would be 
folly to attempt to resist. 

If Violet had been walking over icy mountain 
ridges and suddenly a volcano had burst open at 


READINGS FROM THE POETS APPLIED. 169 


her feet, she would not have been more astonished 
or overwhelmed. She sat speechless for some 
time, then began to gasp out, “ I have never 
thought of this — I cannot ! ” 

“Say no more,” said the parson eagerly, “ at 
present ; go home — think about it — sleep over 
it; I know your decision — you will answer me, 
yes.” 

Violet began again, he stopped her — “Dear 
Miss Heath, you will do as I tell you, now good 
night.” 

As Violet passed from the front door she felt her 
dress twitched, and turning round she saw Miss 
Skillings, who had been waiting for her. 

“ I know what all your meetings is for; want 
me to tell yer the subject — love, love, love, my 
ducky, my dear, my dove, he, he, he ! ” and 
releasing the dress, she darted round the house 
before the flushed and excited Violet could answer 
her. “ He, he, he,” resounded from the back of 
the house, as Miss Skillings, pleased with her 
success in finding out the secret, made her way 
around the corner. 

Then she ceased laughing and mumbled, “Bread 
and water ’s good enough for me. Miss Skillings ; 
more than I deserve, is it. Parson? Is bread and 
water good enough? Then why wasn’t poor Miss 
Skillings’ care of ye good enough without yer 
wanting a dainty bit like Miss Heath? ” 


70 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

DOUBTS. A YOUNG HEART BLIGHTED. 

(( and blighted love 

Proved but too soon how truly spoke 
The warning from above.” 


)LET thought well about it that night, 
but as to taking Parson Gossper’s 
advice to sleep over it, it seemed to be 
out of the question. She was restless 
and uneasy, thinking, thinking, all 
night long. How could she marry him when she 
loved Arthur? What if Arthur cared nothing for 
her? That did not alter the case. She respected 
Parson Gossper, believed him to be a good man ; 
he was cultivated and refined. Would not her life 
be pleasanter passed with him (supposing he still 
wished to marry her after she had told him all, for 
she scorned the idea of any concealment) than the 
miserable life she was now leading? Then she 
contrasted the vulgar, brutal Mr. Leroy and the 
mean, commonplace Miss Sally with him. 

She had felt for some time that she was not 
wanted in the house, and expected every day that 
Mr. Leroy would tell her to go out into the world 
and seek a living. She had no confidence in her 
own powers, and no near friend to advise her. 



A YOUNG HEART BLIGHTED. 


171 


She must tell Miss Sally, it could not be avoided ; 
so after Mr. Leroy had set out on his cart, she 
communicated the information. 

“Well,” exclaimed Miss Sally on hearing it, 
“if you ain’t the luckiest person I ever see! I 
thought I was lucky,” and she gave a sigh that 
indicated she had her doubts about it, “ but you ’re 
the greatest I Accept him? Why, to be sure! 
Why, you did n’t mean to throw away such a 
chance as that, did you? Supposing you loved 
another? All nonsense; and if you did, and had 
a better offer, what of all that? Have him, by all 
means ! I ’m sure you do credit on my raising 
you. I always thought you ’d turn out something. 
A minister’s wife ! you ’ve beat all my expecta- 
tions ; I always thought you’d be something. 
Some of the zealous members of our society ’ll 
lose a little of their zeal, I’m thinking; they’ll 
find all manner of fault and pick you all to pieces, 
but it’s none of their affair, I ’m sure.” 

Violet sighed. Here was a counsellor; here 
was one to advise a young person in extremity ! 
Violet had often wondered if she had any relatives. 
“ O, if I only had a mother!” she would say to 
herself in every time of trouble ; but she had felt 
long ago that she was alone in the world, and she 
had tried to school her heart to bear its burden. 
She had told Miss Sally and was glad that was 
over, but she must have someone to tell her her 
duty. She would go to Mrs. Truepenny. 


172 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 

She waited until she thought Mrs. Truepenny 
would be taking her tea in the back shop. She 
found her there alone, and sobbing through the 
confession, she told her all her troubles ; her love 
for Arthur, his leaving the village without seeing 
her, her treatment from Mr. Leroy, Parson Goss- 
per’s offer, how she felt, her doubts whether it 
would be right to accept it when she did not love 
him. 

“ Poor child,” said Mrs. Truepenny, drawing 
her towards her and smoothing down her hair. 
“ Poor child, you have had a hard lot so far, but I 
believe the Lord has opened a way for you out of 
it, as he did for the Israelites through the Red 
Sea. Wrong to marry him? No, indeed, child! 
As long as he is satisfied (and you can tell him 
your story and see), who’s to find fault? As to 
Parson Gossper, I don’t believe the doctrine he 
preaches, but I think he ’s a good man. I sup- 
pose he thinks it ’s all right. As to Mr. Coverly, 
if you knew young men as well as I do, you 
would n’t think anything of tender words, sweet 
looks, or pressing of hands. Ah me! it’s hard 
when the young heart believes everyone as good 
and true as itself. But never think any more 
about him, now you’ve had an offer from a good 
man and one so respected in society, too. And 
then, dear, if you refused him you would break 
his heart, I’m persuaded, for only think how long 
he ’s been single ; and if he’s set his heart on you, 
why I would n’t be the one to say him nay.” 


A YOUNG HEART BLIGHTED. 


i73 


Violet went home somewhat comforted. Her 
mind was made up — she would marry him. The 
image of Arthur rose up before her reproachfully 
at every step ; she tried to get rid of it, but could 
not. She wished she could believe what Mrs^ 
Truepenny had said, that he did n’t mean anything; 
and did it to deceive her, and hate him ! but no, 
she felt she should always love him, even if he 
cared nothing for her. 

The evening for the next reading came. Whein 
Violet reached the Parsonage, she was admitted by 
Parson Gossper himself. Miss Skillings, whether 
by accident or design she knew not, was, to her 
great relief, absent. Drawing a seat beside her, the 
parson took her hand and said, “Your answer is — ” 

“Yes,” replied Violet. It seemed as if she 
were compelled to give the answer whether willing 
or otherwise. “Yes, sir, if you can accept a heart 
that has been given to another, and still dwells on 
that which it has cherished so long.” 

Then followed a full confession of her feelings, 
the same as she had made to Mrs. Truepenny, 
only suppressing Arthur’s name. 

“Early attachments, my dear Miss Heath, are 
not lasting ones, believe me. You have made an 
honest confession, but I am satisfied if I only win 
a divided heart, for I know,” he added with a 
smile, “ I can win the rest.” 

“As. to this gloomy looking house,” he con* 
tinned, “we will see what we can do to make it 
light and cheerful. I hope my gloomy, solitary 


174 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


days are past forever. As to Miss Skillings, I 
know you don’t fancy her.” 

“ How did you know that?” interrupted Violet. 

“ O, I am a little of a sorcerer,” he answered, 
smiling. “We will find a younger, pleasanter 
handmaid for you. We neither of us feel like 
having a reading to-night ; the last one was only 
too satisfactory, at least to me.” Saying this, the 
parson got his cloak, and waited upon Violet 
home. When they reached the gate, in saying 
good night, he drew her suddenly towards him, 
and stooping down, impressed a kiss on her lips, 
saying as he did so, “You have made me very 
happy, Miss Heath.” “And myself,” said Violet 
to herself, as she turned towards the house, “very 
unhappy ! Alas, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur !” and 
the voice ended in low sobbing that seemed like 
the soft autumn wind wailing among the dying 
flowers she had planted in front of the house, a 
dirge over her withered hopes. 

That same night, at twelve o’clock, stood a 
figure on the little bridge leading from the sexton’s 
cottage, with a bundle in her hand, looking up 
and down the road. It was poor, misguided 
Kitty, prepared to leave father, mother, brother, 
and fly with worthless Dick Wildes. It was an 
hour past the time appointed, still she waited and 
watched. The sound of wheels is heard ; she 
darts eagerly forward, and starts as quickly back at 


A YOUNG HEART BLIGHTED. 


175 


the sight which meets her eyes — Dick Wildes, 
and sitting by his side Lizzie Prime, her hand- 
some, impudent face looking spitefully at poor 
Kitty. She left Dick, however, to be spokesman. 
‘‘Good evening, fair Kitty,” said he — hi*s voice 
sounded shaking and unsteady, for he had plied 
himself well with liquor to keep his courage up — 
“Good evening, fair one; I’m sorry to disappoint 
you, but I came to the conclusion that Lizzie was 
the girl for me after all, so good evening ; can’t you 
wish us a pleasant ride?” Then giving a loud 
laugh, in which Lizzie joined, he touched the 
spirited horse with his whip, and they soon passed 
out of sight. Poor, deceived Kitty stood for a 
moment or two speechless, gazing after the chaise, 
then fell in a death-like swoon upon the bridge. 

In the morning she was found by a laborer, who 
was going on an errand to the sexton’s, and car- 
ried home. When she recovered from her swoon, 
she told in broken words, amid hysterical sobs, 
her sad story. “Thank the Lord!” said Mrs. 
Coplin, her tears falling fast, “ that you have been 
rejected, even if your poor heart is almost broken. 
I had rather see you die of a broken heart than the 
wife of such a worthless villain as Dick Wildes.” 

******** 

The same morning that saw Kitty, after her 
night of excitement and misery, falling into a 
quiet slumber, looked upon the haughty Alice 
Hunting sitting in her luxurious boudoir, listless 


76 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. ' 


and wear}', her eyes heavy after a sleepless night. 
The evening before she had expected her lover^ 
Dick Wildes, and he had failed to come. 

Dick belonged to a wealthy family, and was 
considered a good match ; so after Mr. Coverly 
had left the village Miss Alice had thought it 
worth her while to attach Dick to her side, and 
she had become as fond of him as her selfish 
nature allowed her to be. 

On the preceding evening he had promised to 
be with her, to practice a duet they were to sing 
together at a party she was soon to give. No 
Dick made his appearance. This was not the 
first time he had slighted her. She had passed a 
sleepless night and was up early, out of temper, 
displeased with Dick Wildes, and ready to visit 
her displeasure on anyone who came near her. 
Though it was early morning. Miss Alice had 
been up some hours, and now rang for her maid ; 
three times she rang, each time more angrily. 

At last her waiting-maid appeared, rubbing her 
eyes. 

“ Well, Hines, if you have n’t slept long enough, 
perhaps you ’d better go to bed again ; how many 
hours rest, pray, do you require?” 

“ O please. Miss,” said the individual addressed, 
“ and I Ve been a draming, and I couldn’t for the 
life of me wake meself.” 

“ Dreaming ! ” sneered Miss Alice. 

‘‘ Yes, miss, I was draming of Patrick, and I 
could n’t bear to wake meself.” 


A YOUNG HEART BLIGHTED. 


177 


“ Dreaming of Patrick!” said Miss Alice in a 
sneering tone, “what business have you to think 
or dream about the men? ” 

“ Indade, Miss, and what made me drame about 
him was the news I heard last night about Mr. 
Wildes.” 

“News!” said Miss Alice quickly, “what 
news? ” 

“ O miss, they do say they seen him riding out 
of the village last night with Liz Prime what 
tends Widow Scrubbs’ shop, and they do say he’s 
run off with her.” 

“You can go ! ” said Miss Alice sternly. “ You 
need n’t stop there, tidying up the chamber.” 

When the girl had closed the door. Miss Alice 
locked it, then sat down, and indulged in a hearty 
cry. Then she bathed her face and arranged her 
dishevelled hair, and went about her daily routine 
of busy idleness ; but a change had come over 
her. To be rejected, and for a girl who tended 
a beer shop ! Not only had her feelings been 
wounded deeply, but her pride — could anything 
be more humiliating? 


178 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 



A BRIDAL PARTY INTERRUPTED. 

“ One wave of passion’s boiling flood 
May all the sea of life disturb.” 

I REPARATIONS for Violet’s marriage 
went rapidly forward. Violet had no 
money of her own, but Miss Sally, 
who on Violet’s engagement began to 
see in her a person of some conse- 
quence, seemed willing to do all she could to aid it. 
She gave her several dozen of her own nice sheets 
and pillow cases, and offered her some of her night 
dresses, linen, etc. ; but at this time Parson Goss- 
per sent her a note, delicately worded, containing 
a bill for a large amount, hinting that she might 
find a use for it. He did not visit Violet as much 
as might be expected, for he seemed to entertain 
no great liking for Mr. Leroy. So Violet was left 
to her own sad thoughts, very different thoughts 
from those one so near being a bride ought to 
indulge in. 

The wedding day arrived. Violet, arrayed in 
white, a white rose bud on her breast, a string of 
pearls wound amid her bright curls, pale and rest- 
less, looked more like a corpse than a bride. 
Miss Sally had donned her own bridal attire to do 


A BRIDAL PARTY INTERRUPTED. 


179 


justice to the occasion. Mr. Leroy had absented 
himself, saying that one wedding would last him 
some time. 

The party, consisting of Parson Gossper, Violet, 
Miss Sally, and Jennie Truepenny, who was to be 
the bridesmaid, arrived at the church and entered 
the vestry, where they were to wait until the min- 
ister and the groomsman (both friends of Parson 
Gossper) should come. 

The church was crowded. Violet could hear 
the tramping of their feet, the rush and bustle to 
secure good seats, and the thought of the crowd of 
eager gazers awaiting her made her feel as if she 
should sink into the earth. 

The wedding party had waited some time. Miss 
Sally tapped impatiently with her parasol. The 
sexton kept coming to the door and peeping in, as 
if to satisfy himself that the party were still there. 
Every time he opened the door, Violet could see 
those nearest stretching their necks to look in. At 
last the expected minister and groomsman arrived. 
A strange look was on the minister’s face ; it was 
not a look of congratulation for the wedding party. 
Approaching Parson Gossper and shaking hands, 
he gravely said, “ My dear friend, this wedding 
cannot take place.” 

“Why not?” asked the parson, almost fiercely. 

“ My dear friend, be calm ! and my dear Miss 
Heath, prepare yourself ! turning to the 

would-be bridegroom, “ are this lady’s father! I 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


i8o 


have a document I will read you, which will 
explain it all.” 

Parson Gossper, who had started up, reseated 
himself. His icy face grew dark with purple 
shadows ; he took Violet’s hand, pressed it in his 
own so tightly that she could have screamed with 
pain. Miss Sally sat with her mouth, eyes, and 
ears wide open, while poor, sightless Jennie sat 
silently weeping. 

Mr. Hinks began to read the document, which 
comprises a part of Parson Gossper’s history we 
have not yet touched upon. The document had 
been sent him, he said, the preceding evening, 
from the Rockshire Poor House, and was signed 
by the superintendent and by one Peace Penniman, 
who had been in the house at the time of Violet’s 
birth. It commenced — 

“ I, Violet Heatherwell (here Parson Gossper 
groaned aloud), have been cruelly betrayed and 
deceived into thinking I was married to Herman 
Gossper. I have been told that my marriage, 
which took place March i6, 1840, at the vestry of 
the Catholic Cathedral, Litchfield, was a mock 
one ! I believe myself to be his wife in the sight 
of God, and he will not deny that this babe is his 
child. I do not wish her to bear his name after 
his cruel treatment. I have called her Violet 
Heath, so that anyone who has known me may 
not sneer at her for my misfortune and her father’s 
crime. I leave her in the care of Miss Peace 


A BRIDAL PARTY INTERRUPTED. 


i8i 


Penniman, the witness of her birth, and I have 
written this in the hope that my poor babe may 
sometime profit by it. I die happy in the thought 
that my child is in good hands. 

(Signed) 

Violet Heatherwell. 

Witnesses : 

Philip Greggs, Su ^ t , 

Peace Penniman, Matron'' 

We will go back and review that part of Parson 
Gossper’s early history which relates to this. 

Herman Gossper was the son of wealthy Cath- 
olic parents, who resided at Litchfield. His mother 
died when he was young, and his father, who had 
taken great pains with his education, intended him 
for the priesthood. Herman liked secular things 
better than spiritual, but he had no thought of 
resisting his father’s wishes. He had made the 
acquaintance of Miss Heatherwell, the daughter of 
a poor French teacher, who, on account of her 
beauty, was the toast of all the young men of his 
set. They became sincerely attached to each 
other, and Herman hoped in time to gain his 
father’s consent to their marriage. He had never 
thought of the one serious obstacle, the celibacy of 
the priesthood, for which order he was preparing. 
When he realized this, it burst upon him like a thun- 
derbolt. He could not resist his father’s will, and 
he well knew he never would give up his cherished 
scheme. 


i 82 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


But the son had the same spirit of determination, 
and he resolved not to give up Violet. By the 
help of an acquaintance, who was very much like 
himself, he determined on a mock marriage ; and 
it accordingly took place at the vestry of the 
Catholic Cathedral. They left Litchfield at night 
and reached a remote country village, where little 
or no trade was carried on and which was seldom 
visited. Here he lived happily with her who con- 
sidered herself as his wife, for nearly a year. He 
frequently absented himself on the plea of business. 

In one of these absences Violet was clearing up 
her husband’s desk. In putting things to rights, 
she accidentally touched a secret spring in one of 
the pigeon holes, and a number of letters came 
tumbling out. She read several. They were 
some of those she had sent Herman in the days 
of their courtship ; they had been carefully pre- 
served, they were treasured — the thought .pleased 
her. She went on examining them. She came 
to a letter not hers, that arrested her attention. 
It was an unfinished one her husband was writing 
to some friend ; she soon found it was to the min- 
ister who had married them. Married them? Ah 
no ! She read the words over until they seemed 
written in characters of fire on her brain ! her 
husband’s words, thanking his friend, the mock 
priest, for his skillful deception, and telling him 
that he owed all his happiness to him. * * * 

The paper fell open on the desk ; there she left 
it to tell its own tale. She was pale and speech- 


A BRIDAL BAR TV INTERRUPTED. 


183 


less, trembling and weak, but her resolution was 
taken. 

Putting up a small bundle of clothes, she left 
the house where she had spent so many happy 
hours, and following the turnpike road, was soon 
far away from it. At night she found a refuge at 
the farmhouses on the road, and traveling several 
days, by slow degrees she at last reached the 
village of Rockshire. Worn out by her unusual 
exertions, she felt too sick and feeble to go farther. 
She reached the poor house, where she was kindly 
received — it was none too soon. She was seized 
with a brain fever, and her life despaired of. She 
recovered, however, but was feeble and ailing for 
the short remainder of her life, for in the course of 
a month she gave birth to a daughter and died. 

Herman Gossper returned to his home after the 
absence of a week, to find it desolate. No one in 
the village knew” she had left, for she had kept all 
to herself, only too happy in the society of him 
she loved. 

He visited all the neighboring villages, except 
the right one ; that was too distant for him even to 
suspect she could travel so far. He cursed his 
stars, his father, the Catholic Church — everything 
but his own wicked self; but curses availed not. 
He returned to his home at Litchfield, prepared 
to overwhelm his father with reproaches. He 
found him sick and very near death ; his mind was 
wandering, and reproaches or blessings would 
matter little to him. He died, leaving his son 


12 


1 84 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


heir to a large property. Herman spent large 
sums in fruitless efforts to find the lost one. It 
was all in vain, and he gave himself up to despair 
for a long time. 

At length he roused himself, and resolved on an 
European tour. While abroad he renounced the 
Catholic faith and .turned to the Orthodox. 

On his return to his native land after an absence 
of several years, he preached in different places, 
and soon received a call at Chester. He accepted 
it in preference to calls received at other places, on 
account of its retirement, which agreed with his 
feelings. Here his public hours were spent in 
trying to benefit the community. His private 
hours were passed in remorse. He still retained 
one part of the Catholic belief, the efficacy of 
penance. His private study was the scene of many 
a flagellation, many a secret, self-inflicted torture. 
His ic}^ face seldom smiled, he lived on the plain- 
est food, and partook of no amusement. When 
he met with Violet, he loved her at first sight. It 
was the resemblance to her mother that attracted 
him without his knowing why. We have seen 
the result. 

Violet’s friend. Miss Penniman, had never lost 
her interest in her charge. She had often wished 
she could visit her, but the duties of her office had 
prevented, and of late years she had lost the use 
of her lower limbs. She had kept an oversight of 
her, however, by dint of constant inquiries, when- 
ever anyone came from Chester; and when she 


A BRIDAL PARTY INTERRUPTED. 


185 


heard of her engagement to a Mr. Gossper, the 
coincidence struck her. She made diligent in- 
quiries about him, and convinced herself that he 
was Violet’s father. With the help of the super- 
intendent she had succeeded (before it was too 
late) in stopping the marriage. 

To return to the party at the vestry: Parson 
Gossper sat rigid, immovable, like a marble statue, 
his eyes fixed on vacancy ; his lips only had a 
slight motion, he seemed saying over the words of 
a penance. Violet, pale and trembling, her mind 
filled with astonishment, terror, pity for Parson 
Gossper ; yet amid all these mingled emotions 
there stole a feeling of relief, of peace. The 
image of Arthur rose up before her and smiled 
upon her. 

Poor Jennie sat white and quivering by Violet’s 
side. Miss Sally looked at Parson Gossper with 
horror and indignation, and shook her head as if 
she would have said, had she dared, “ I knew it ! 
I always thought so ! ” 

After reading the document, Mr. Hinks broke 
the silence. He approached Parson Gossper, and 
took his hand. “ My friend,” said he, “ I would 
fain comfort you.” 

“ Comfort ! peace ! there is no comfort, no 
peace for me more ! ” whispered the parson in a 
hollow tone. “ I must seek loneliness, retirement, 
penance. Adieu, my friend ; when we meet again 
it will be under different circumstances. Violet, 
my — but no, I cannot call you that ! ” — here he 


i86 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


offered her his arm, conducted her to the carriage, 
helped Jennie and Miss Sally in, then he strode 
off rapidly to his own home. 

Mr. Hinks and the groomsman entered the 
church. Mr. Hinks ascended the pulpit and said, 
“ My friends, there will be no wedding here 
to-day. Unforeseen circumstances that will be ex- 
plained hereafter have prevented it; and (extend- 
ing hands to give the benediction) God keep us 
all from temptation. His grace be with you all. 
Amen ! ” 

What a bustle, whispering, and talking there 
was among the gossips of Chester. A thousand 
things were conjectured, everything but the right 
one was suggested. All the blame and all the 
evil reports of course rested on Violet, for the 
majority of the congregation was composed of her 
own sex, and we all know how bitter most of them 
are agaipst a fallen sister. But no one even 
thought of suspecting Parson Gossper. He was 
the recipient of a great deal of commiseration, 
however, and they all pitied him for being deceived 
by such a one. 

There was one who, walking round the church, 
listened greedily to all the surmises, and shook her 
head knowingly at every group of gossipers ; this 
was Miss Skillings. When she had satisfied her 
curiosity she hobbled out of the church, mumbling 
as she went along, “ Glad of it, mighty glad ! 
No young miss coming to drive old Miss Skillings 
round the house ; glad of it, mighty glad ! ” 


THE ROBBERY AND THE TRAGEDY. 


187 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE ROBBERY AND THE TRAGEDY. 

“Yet thus to pass away ! — 

To live but for a hope that mocks at last.” 

)LET’S ride home from the church 
was a sad one. Jennie tried to com- 
fort her all she could and soothe her 
feelings, but Miss Sally acted the 
part of a Job’s comforter. 

“I thought,” said she, “it was too good to 
last ! I always thought you ’d come to no good ; I 
always thought he was n’t the one for you ! Then 
to think that he’s your father — no great credit to 
you ; then to think your father and mother never 
were married. I’m sure folks won’t call you 
respectable. I don’t know what to do about hav- 
ing you live with me; I shall ask Frederick about 
it when he comes home.” 

All this and much more did Miss Sally pour 
upon the wounds of Violet’s already lacerated feel- 
ings. Jennie held Violet’s hand in hers, giving it 
now and then a gentle pressure expressive of her 
sympathy. They at last reached the house. 

The rest of the day was spent by Violet in silent 
sadness ; by Miss Sally in giving vent to bitter 
taunts. In some minds people are exalted or 



i88 


A SmAJVGE DISCLOSURE. 


degraded according to the circumstances in which 
they are placed or the success they meet with. 
This was the case with Miss Sally. Violet, who 
was to be a minister’s wife, was exalted ; Violet, 
an illegitimate child, was degraded ! 

Night came. Many terrified nights, many sad 
and sorrowful ones in the lonely, old house had 
Violet passed, but this was the saddest of all. 
During the previous day she would have gone to the 
parsonage to try if she might comfort her father, 
but she knew, if she proposed it. Miss Sally would 
deride her ; she knew what Miss Skillings’ recep- 
tion of her would be, and what deterred her more, 
was the thought that perhaps her father (yes, her 
father ! the name sounded how strangely to her !), 
her father would not wish to see her ; perhaps he 
had begun to hate her for bringing back all his 
early crime. 

Morning came, as it comes alike to the happy 
and the unhappy. Violet, after a night of anguish, 
had fallen into an uneas}^ doze, when she was sud- 
denly roused by loud screams ; and hastily putting 
on her dress, she descended the stairs, where she 
was met by Miss Sally, half dressed, her hair 
flying, her whole appearance that of the greatest 
disorder. As soon as Violet came near enough to 
hear distinctly, her screams were understood. 

“ My money, my money ! somebody’s stole it ! ” 

“ What money?” asked Violet, though she well 
knew. 

“ My money, my bag of money that I’ve always 


THE ROBBERY AND THE TRAGEDY. 


189 


kept under the bedding in the bed room ! ” screamed 
Miss Sally. “ O, if Frederick were here to catch 
the thief! ” 

Violet could give her no consolation, indeed it 
seemed a matter of little import to her, when she 
thought of the serious events of the preceding day. 
After a while Miss Sally calmed down a little and 
came to reflection. 

“Put on your bonnet, Violet, and run down to 
the station house, and tell the head constable all 
about it, and ask him to do what he can to discover 
the thief.” 

So Violet, her eyes red with weeping, preferring 
the solitude of her own chamber to the public 
gaze, yet willing to oblige Miss Sally, notwith- 
standing all the ill treatment she had received 
from her, went on her errand. She had not pro- 
ceeded far when she saw people running here and 
there, talking to each other, some stopping at the 
doors of houses from whence others soon came and 
joined the many, all running in one direction. 

“ What is the matter? ” inquired Violet of a man 
passing her. 

The man regarded her with a look of pity, but 
gave no answer as he kept on. 

She inquired again and again. 

One said, “ Something dreadful had happened I” 
another said, “You’ll know soon enough!” but 
all hurried on towards one point, and this point 
Violet saw, as she walked on faster and faster, 
was the parsonage. 


190 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


At last she reached it. A dense crowd sur- 
rounded it, which she could not penetrate. Those 
of whom she inquired what was the matter did 
not know. After standing there a few minutes, 
she saw the crowd suddenly begin to fall back, 
and stepping upon a pile of boards near her, she 
saw Mr. Hinks at the door waving them back with 
his hand. 

“ My friends,” said he, “ are you not ashamed 
of this idle curiosity? Can you not leave the 
house to its own solemnity?” The abashed crowd 
withdrew, separating into small knots. 

Violet, trembling with emotion, stood leaning 
against a tree. She did not feel as if she could 
enter the parsonage, indeed she was almost too 
weak to move. Mrs. Truepenny, who made one 
of the crowd, spied her out, and taking her kindly 
by the arm, lead her gently to her own home. 

We will enter the parsonage. Sad and gloomy 
it had looked for years, but to-day it looked more 
gloomy than ever, for the shadow of the Angel of 
Death rested upon it.. 

The day before, when Mr. Hinks and his friend 
left the church, they called at the parsonage to see 
Parson Gossper. Miss Skillings came to the door 
with the message that he could n’t bear anyone’s 
presence then ; he would see them to-morrow at 
eight o’clock. They accordingly put up at the 
tavern, and this morning they had called at the 
appointed hour. Miss Skillings met them with a 


THE ROBBERY AND THE TRAGEDY. 191 

look of perplexity on her face, and said that the 
parson had locked himself into his study the night 
before, and told her not to disturb him ; there he 
had been ever since. Mr. Hinks suspected imme- 
diately that all was not right. He called through 
the door — no answer. He and his friend then 
burst it open. There sat the parson at his table, 
his head on his breast, his face pale and passion- 
less as in life, only now dark, purple shadows 
rested beneath his eyes. His hands still clutched 
convulsively an empty vial labelled laudanum. 
The eyes of the martyred saints upon the walls all 
seemed to gaze reproachfully at him as if they said, 
“We have suffered for our righteousness, you for 
3^our sin. We through torments have entered into 
Peace ; you through self-destruction have entered 
into a state where there is no Peace.” 

The candles beside the crucifix flickered in their 
sockets ; their expiring light fell on the counte- 
nance of the dying Savior, whose eyes raised 
towards Heaven beamed with a faint likeness to 
that divine compassion that illumined the face of 
the living Master, and its lips seemed uttering the 
prayer, once uttered on the cross, still sounding 
through the ages, “ Father, forgive them, for 
they know not what they do ! ” 

After ascertaining that he was really dead and 
there were no hopes of resuscitation, Mr. Hinks 
sent Miss Skillings in search of the coroner. 


192 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


That evening at dusk a solitary funeral was seen 
wending its way to the churchyard back of Miss 
Sally’s. There were four followers, Mr. Hinks 
and his friend, Violet, and Mrs. Truepenny. 


MISS SALLY LLLNESS, 


193 



CHAPTER XX. 

MISS SALLY’S ILLNESS. 

Through suffering and sorrow thou hast passed 
To show us what a woman true may be ; 

They have not taken sympathy from thee, 

Nor made thee other than thou wast.” 

R. Leroy had not returned. Miss Sally 
waited his coming with impatience, 
for she wanted his advice with regard 
to Violet ; but she thought, if any 
money was to be had from Parson 
Gosspers estate, Violet might as well have it. 

She took legal advice, but found to her chagrin 
that Parson Gossper had a maiden aunt, who was 
the only heir. The law entitling illegitimate chil- 
dren to a share of their father’s property had not 
yet been passed. Disappointed in this and worn 
out by the loss of her own money, of which no 
tidings had been had, Miss Sally worried and 
fretted, and led a wretched life. She grew more 
exacting and fretful every day. 

It was now a fortnight from the time Mr. Leroy 
left that Miss Sally began to complain of a listless- 
ness, drowsiness, and great weariness ; she had a 
feverish thirst, and complained of fits of heat and 
cold. Violet advised her to send for the doctor. 


94 


A S7'J^ANGE DISCLOSURE. 


When he came he pronounced it that dreadful 
malady, the small pox. He told her not to take to 
her bed, but to sit up ; to keep herself cool, to eat 
light food, and drink freely diluted liquors, such 
as balm tea, barley water, etc. ; and having pre- 
scribed for her, he left, saying he did not consider 
it a dangerous case. 

When he had gone Miss Sally burst into a 
paroxysm of mingled rage and terror. “ O 
Heaven ! I to have the small pox, that dreadful 
disorder ! Where could I have got it? I Ve been 
nowhere, but then, Frederick is always bringing 
home old things. I believe I took it from those 
old ribbons he brought home the last time. O dear 
me ! and everybody will run away and leave me 
to die alone ! ” 

“ No,” said Violet, “ I will stay by you.” 

“ You ! ” exclaimed Miss Sally ; “ what have I 
ever done for you that you should care for me ? ” 

“Don’t trouble yourself about that,” replied 
Violet, “ but try to get well.” 

“Ain’t you afraid you ’ll have it?” asked Miss 
Sally. 

“ I have the same One to care for me now as 
ever,” answered Violet. 

So she took care of Miss Sally when everyone 
kept away from the house (we must except Mrs. 
Truepenny, who brought her bread and milk and 
other necessaries-, and deposited her basket inside 
the gate every morning) ; cooked her light dishes, 
and tried to make them inviting and palatable. 


. M/SS SALLVS ILLNESS. 


195 


The whole care of Captain Peter devolved on her 
also. The doctor who attended Miss Sally, said 
it was too much care and anxiety for such a young 
person to bear ; but Miss Sally had no money to 
pay for a nurse, and no one volunteered through 
love. 

So Violet went on with her heavy task patiently 
and fearlessly. Miss Sally felt more and more 
touched by remorse as Violet day by day hovered 
round her loathsome couch, ministering to her 
with the care of a loving daughter ; but it was not 
affection that prompted Violet, indeed there was 
no reason why she should be attached to Miss 
Sally. Duty was the prompter, and faithfully she 
obeyed its summons. 

She was but human, however, and the thought 
often came uppermost, “What if I should take 
this dreadful disease and become disfigured, so 
that Arthur, if he ever returns, will not know me, 
or will turn from me with loathing ! ” But God 
had her in His keeping, and had given His angels 
charge concerning her. 

In three or four days the eruption came out, and 
the fever abated. Miss Sally began to feel better. 
All the while she was sick she had wondered why 
Frederick did not come home, and she still fretted 
about it. 

Her feelings towards Violet had undergone a 
great change. She felt truly grateful to her, as 
well she might, and would say often, “ If ever my 
money is found, I will make my will, and you 


96 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


shall be rewarded at my death for all you have 
done for me.” 

At the end of a fortnight Miss Sally said that 
she felt like herself again. 

A few days after this, as she was sitting at work 
in the old kitchen with Violet and Captain Peter, 
who seemed to rejoice in the absence of Mr. Leroy, 
when in walked the head constable. He had 
important information to communicate. Two men 
had been arrested at Knoxville, a large city about 
fifty miles distant, for burglary. They had given 
assumed names, but from their description, which 
he had seen in the papers, he had thought that 
one might be Mr. Leroy. The paper also stated 
that in the carpet bag of the individual described 
there was found, among other things, a canvas 
bag containing a large sum of money ; the bag 
had the initials P. H. marked on it. He went on 
to say that, seeing this in the paper, he went 
immediately to the city, and identified both of the 
men ; one was Mr. Leroy and the other Dick 
Wildes. He had sworn to the money being Miss 
Sally’s by naming the amount in it, and explaining 
the initials on it as those of Miss Sally’s father, 
Peter Harwood. 

“And here,” added he, as he finished his recital, 
diving down into a capacious pocket in his great 
coat, “ is the money.” 

Miss Sally was overjoyed, and willingly paid all 
the fees. “ And now,” said she, turning to Violet, 
“ to-morrow I shall go to my lawyer and fulfill my 


MISS SALIVAS ILLNESS. 


197 


promise ; only I shall leave you all of it at my 
death on one condition, which I know you will 
keep, and that is, that you take care of Captain 
Peter as long as he lives. As to Frederick,” and 
her pinched features assumed an expression of the 
greatest scorn ; “ as to Frederick, the worthless 
villain ! I renounce him forever ! and yet,” she 
added in a softer tone, “ I once thought he loved 
me.” 

Miss Sally was as good as her word. The next 
day she did as she had said, and on her return she 
gave Violet the will to keep, saying that she had 
been robbed once and might be again. 

Miss Sally, as we said before, was herself 
again ; but now Captain Peter was seized with the 
disorder, and notwithstanding Miss Sally’s and 
Violet’s care, grew rapidly worse. At the end of 
four days the eruption appeared, but it did not 
remain long — ‘‘ it struck in,” as Miss Sally said. 
He grew delirious, and in a few days all was 
over. He was buried at midnight in a retired 
part of the grave-yard. Miss Sally, notwithstand- 
ing her recent illness, persisted in watching by the 
grave night after night. She had had no dealings 
with the medical students for some time. The 
Senior class had graduated from the school, and 
the next class was not ready for dissection. There 
was in reality no danger of Captain Peter’s being 
disinterred, but Miss Sally, as is natural, suspected 
others of doing that which she had done herself. 
So she watched by the grave through the long. 


198 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


chilly nights, and brought on a relapse so severe 
and dangerous that, in a few days, she was laid by 
her brother’s side. She died blessing Violet. 
Evil was overcome by good. 


AJV OLD FRIEND REGAINED. 


199 


CHAPTER XXL 

AN OLD FRIEND REGAINED. 

“ Violet ! sweet Violet ! 

Thine eyes are full of tears 5 
Are they wet 
Even yet 

With the thoughts of other years?” 

NELY indeed was the old house after 
Miss Sally’s death. The selectmen 
of the town sent persons to cleanse it 
the next day after the funeral. When 
they had finished and Yiolet walked 
through the empty rooms, all the strength that had 
supported her in this heavy trial seemed to leave 
her. She sat down in a chair in the old kitchen, 
and wept bitterly. The day declined. The sun- 
beams that had danced and frolicked on the sanded 
floor as if to attract her notice, silently withdrew. 
The roses and honeysuckles, wet with the evening 
dew, sent in their pleasant fragrance through the 
window as if to comfort her. The stars with sin- 
less eyes, pure and clear as faith, looked down 
from the deep blue as if they said, “ There is One 
who endureth forever.” But her heart needed 
human sympathy, and although she knew it not, 
it was on its way. A step was heard on the 
gravelled walk. “ Who,” thought Violet, “ cares 

13 



200 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


enough for me to visit me?” but she sat listless 
and indifferent. 

Suddenly a soft arm was thrown round her 
neck, and Kitty’s lips were pressed to hers. 

“ O, Violet !” she exclaimed, “ how much I have 
thought of and pitied you, but mother thought it 
wasn’t safe for me to come before. Mother has 
been but poorly, but we’ve all thought of you. 
Some of the baskets of nice^hings mother cooked 
up, and Kris put inside of the gate for you.” 

“ ’T was very kind, Kitty,” said Violet, “for you 
to remember me, and nothing could have given 
me more pleasure than to have you come to-night, 
Kitty, for O, I feel so lonesome ! ” 

“Well, cheer up,” replied Kitty, with some of 
her former vivacity; “ I don’t mean to leave you 
alone. Have you had any supper, Violet? ” 

“ I have n’t eaten anything to-day, Kitty, and I 
do n’t feel the need of it.” 

“ O, yes, you do,” answered Kitty. “I’m a 
famous cook, and I ’ll cook up something that ’ll 
make you feel the need of it, right away ! ” 

Then Kitty bustled round, inspected the closets, 
kindled up a bright fire, for though it was sum- 
mer the evenings were cold and chilly. Soon 
the kettle sang and hissed and the fragrant tea 
was poured in ; then she toasted brown and nice 
some slices of bread, and brought out a glass 
dish of cranberry jelly of her mother’s making. 
When all was ready, she persuaded Violet to 
sit down and eat. Then she tried to turn her 


AN OLD FRIEND REGAINED. 


201 


thoughts away from her own sadness, relating any 
little thing about their acquaintances which she 
thought would interest her. 

“And by the way, Violet,” said she, “I’d 
almost forgotten my message to you from Mrs. 
Truepenny. She sent her best love, and said she 
should have been here in person, only Jennie has 
just had an operation performed on her eyes, and 
the doctor says it is successful, for she can see ! 
Only think, Jennie can see ! I want you to hear 
her talk about it ; but she ’s got to sit in a dark 
room for a week. And O, Violet,” exclaimed 
Kitty, in a more excited tone, “ I haven’t told you 
the greatest news ! Kris is engaged to Jennie, and 
he was the one who proposed the operation ; but I 
really thought once,” she added, glancing slyly at 
Violet, “ that he never thought of anybody but 
you.” 

Violet said nothing to this, but left Kitty to her 
own surmises. Thus Kitty chatted away, and 
Violet for a while forgot her sadness. She began 
to communicate a plan she had already formed in 
reference to the future. 

“You know, Kitty, Miss Sally has left me 
money, and you remember Miss Peace Penniman, 
the one, Kitty, who gave me the first impulse in 
the path of right. It was she, Kitty, who taught 
me to return good for evil ; not to answer back 
insult, and to bear patiently a life of toil, which 
she foresaw was before me. What could I think 
of now, Kitty, but how to repay her kindness 


202 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


towards me? She is poor and helpless, and I 
must have her brought here, and the scanty rem- 
nant of her poor life made as beautiful and happy 
as possible ; and it will benefit me, Kitty, to have 
her kind, calm face and her pleasant voice near 
me. I must have something to love, Kitty,” and 
Violet gave a sigh. 

It was arranged that Kitty should go with her to 
the Rockshire poorhouse and assist in the care of 
Miss Peace on the journey. 

The next day, bright and early, they took the 
cars for Rockshire. Violet had not been in the 
cars since she came from there. Her former jour- 
ney rose in her mind, when, a sad, sobbing child, 
she was on her way to a strange home, leaving all 
she had ever loved behind. A strange home indeed 
it had proved to her. She thought how different 
her life might have been if she had been brought 
up by cultivated, refined, and religious people; 
but the past had fled forever — why should she 
recall it? Who can alter it? 

Kitty tried to keep up a conversation, but Violet 
did not respond, and Kitty finally gave it up and 
amused herself by watching the passengers. At 
last the bell rang, the cars stopped, the station 
was reached. The passengers passed out of the 
cars, and Violet and Kitty took their way to the 
Rockshire poorhouse. Violet remembered the 
feelings with which she had looked back when 
leaving it. It seemed then a house of refuge, 
a happy home ; now it looked like a gigantic 


AN OLD FRIEND REGAINED. 


203 


prison, from which she had come to release her 
friend. 

They rang the bell. Miss Cynthia- — no, Mrs. 
Josiah Heard, for she has been married to her 
friend since we saw her — came at the summons. 
She did not recognize, in one of the well dressed 
young ladies before her, the Violet of former 
years. 

“ What is your pleasure, ladies? ” 

“ I should like to see the superintendent,” said 
Violet, “ as I have come about the removal of one 
of the inmates.” 

“ Who? ” inquired Mrs. Heard. 

“ Miss Peace Penniman,” answered Violet. 

“ Did you know she’s almost totally helpless? 
She ’s a great burden to us, and I do n’t believe 
you ’ll want to cumber yourself with her when you 
see her.” 

“That’s one of the very reasons I’ve come,” 
said Violet, “ because she is helpless and needs 
care.” 

Mrs. Heard said no more, but led the way 
through several long entries. In one of them 
Violet saw Josiah (Mr. Heard), attired in an old, 
blue blouse, sweeping the floor. He looked up 
meekly at the matron, his wife. The only notice 
she took of him was to tell him to get out of the 
way, with his broom, when visitors were passing. 

Violet also saw a young woman, who, turning 
quickly to one of the side doors, seemed to be 
trying to escape their notice. It was Lizzie Prime, 


204 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


and from her appearance Violet judged that she had 
not only brought herself, but would shortly bring 
another occupant, into the Rockshire poorhouse. 

They found the superintendent in his room, busy 
with his papers. The two doctors of the establish- 
ment were also there. 

Violet stated the object of her visit. 

He informed her, as the matron had done, that 
Miss Peace was helpless, and would only be a 
burden to her. 

“That is no objection,” said Violet; “it is 
rather an inducement.” 

The superintendent made no further remark, 
but wrote out the necessary papers, which Violet 
signed. When he read her name, “Violet Heath,” 
the superintendent all at once recognized her, and 
began to be rather inquisitive about her marriage 
that was so near taking place. 

Violet satisfied him as well as she could, but was 
glad when his interrogations came to an end. He 
left the room, and after some time appeared with 
two strong men bringing Miss Peace in an arm- 
chair; neat as ever, in a brown woollen gown, a 
muslin kerchief round her neck, her snowy hair 
white as her clean starched cap. Poor old soul! 
how she rubbed her eyes to keep the tears back, 
but they were tears of joy ! 

“ I knew thee would come if it was ever in thy 
power, and if thee is willing to burden thyself 
with a helpless old woman, I am willing to go with 
thee anywhere.” 


AJV OLD FRIEND REGAINED. 


205 


Violet fell sobbing on her neck, and kissed her 
again and again. Her trunk was soon packed 
with her clothes and what few books she owned, 
the wagon belonging to the house was brought to 
the door, and Violet, after taking leave of the 
superintendent, got in by the side of Miss Peace 
and Kitty. The two men accompanied them, to 
assist in placing Miss Peace in the cars. 

The ride back was a pleasant one, for Miss 
Peace, notwithstanding her misfortune, was lively 
and entertaining. When they reached Chester, 
Violet took a coach, and ere long they arrived at 
the old house, solitary no longer. 

Mrs. Coplin, Kitty’s mother, had all things ready 
for their reception. A bright fire was burning, 
thfe table set out with a bountiful supper, the tea 
was steaming, and everything looked bright and 
cheerful. Miss Peace was brought in and placed 
in the great armchair Violet had bought for her. 

They took off their things, and drew up round 
the inviting repast. They all began to talk and 
laugh and explain everything that had occurred 
since they parted, and a pleasanter party the old 
house had never known. It was late when they 
separated. Before Mrs. Coplin went away she 
assisted Violet in getting Miss Peace to bed. 
When she took leave of Violet she said, “You 
must have someone to live with you to assist in 
taking care of Miss Peace ; it will be too much for 
you alone.” 


2o6 


A S'n^AJVGE DISCLOSURE. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

RENOVATION. 

“When we furnished the rooms, nor a hope ever felt, 

Nor a wish to have anything more.” 

H HE next morning Violet, following Mrs. 

Coplin’s advice, called at a neighbor- 
ing farmer’s to procure the assistance 

of one of his daughters. The girl, ’ 

Betsey Low, was only too willing to 
come, and as she was large, strong, and good- 
natured, she proved quite a valuable addition' to 
the household. 

Violet thus gained a little time for herself, in 
which she could attend to several things she 
.wished to do. 

One was to have her father’s grave. Miss Sally’s, ' 
and Captain Peter’s nicely sodded and cleared up. 
With the help of the young sexton, who was 
ready enough to do extra work provided he was 
paid for it, this was done. Violet caused a broken 
column to be placed at the head of her father’s 
grave, emblem of his rash, untimely end ; but she 
also had flowers planted around it, that she might 
be reminded by their beauty and perfume that for- 
giveness waited for all repentant souls. She also 
caused her mother’s remains to be brought from 


RENOVATION, 


207 


the simple grave-yard back of Rockshire poor- 
house, and placed by the side of her father’s, with 
a white rharble stone bearing her name and age, 
while a white dove spread its wings upon it. 
Stones were also placed by her on Miss Sally’s 
and Captain Peter’s graves ; around the latter she 
planted bunches of daisies, emblems of his simple, 
innocent life. 

Then she turned her attention to renovating the 
house. Everything in it was in the meanest style ; 
the floors were bare, the furniture old, the curtains 
threadbare. Carpets were bought for the parlor, 
bed room, kitchen, and chambers; new curtains 
hung at the windows ; modern furniture was placed 
in the rooms, and handsome pictures on the walls. 
The gloomy look of the old house began to vanish. 

The kitchen, the pleasantest room in the house, 
was to be their sitting-room ; painted, white- 
washed, covered with a bright carpet, some of 
Violet’s favorite pictures hung on the walls ; a 
nice, soft, stuffed armchair for Miss Peace, beside 
which Lady Jane Grey, the cat, now grown old 
and laz}’’, purred on a low cushion ; vases of flow- 
ers stood on the little centre-table — all gave a 
pleasant, cheery look to the room. 

Miss Peace gazed round at all this, pleased and 
happy. “ But it ’s all too nice and new, dear, for 
a kitchen ; thee must have the wood-house built out 
and altered.” 

This was accordingly done. A small kitchen 
was made, a clean, painted carpet nailed down; 


2o8 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


the cooking stove, bright and shining as Betsy 
Low’s strong arms could make it, stood in front of 
the chimney, by the side of which the opened 
closet showed rows of bright, polished pewter 
dishes. Miss Sally’s money had come out of its 
long nap of thirty years, and had waked up bright 
and shining, taking shape and comeliness. 

The arrangements were completed, and as Violet 
was sitting one afternoon beside Miss Peace, she 
said, “ How I should like to have Jennie True- 
penny see all this.” 

“ See all this ! ” exclaimed Miss Peace ; “didn’t 
thee tell me thy friend Jennie was blind? ” 

“ Yes, she was blind,” said Violet, “ but her 
sight has been restored lately.” 

“Well, why don’t thee invite her then,” said 
Miss Peace; “thee knows thee is all ready for 
company,” she added with a pleasant smile. 

So Jennie and her mother were invited to come 
the next day and spend the afternoon. 

At the time appointed Violet, who had been 
watching, saw Jennie and her mother coming in at 
the gate. Mrs. Truepenny, dressed in her best, 
led Jennie by the hand, who, although she had 
recovered her sight, walked as carefully as ever, 
having a green shade over her eyes to shield them 
from the sun. Violet ran forth to meet them. 

“Jennie, I ’m so glad you ’ve come ! ” 

“ O Violet,” exclaimed Jennie, raising her green 
shade, “ how beautiful you are ! I always knew 
it, but now I see it.” 


RENOVATION-. 


209 


“Don’t talk so, Jennie,” said Violet, “every- 
thing looks beautiful to you now ; but come in and 
see what I ’ve been doing to the old house.” 

Mrs. Truepenny and Jennie were as pleased as 
Violet could wish. The afternoon passed quite 
happily. In the course of it Jennie whispered to 
Violet, “ I do n’t wonder that you loved Miss 
Peace, for I did at first sight; O she looks so good 
and pure sitting there in her drab gown and white 
muslin neckerchief, her snowy hair white as her 
cap.” 

Ample justice was done to a nice supper pre- 
pared by Betsy Low. When they were seated at 
the table, Jennie gave an account of her feelings at 
receiving her sight. 

“When I first opened my eyes, Violet, I was 
bewildered and could not realize anything, or 
understand forms and distances ; but in a few days 
my eyes grew stronger, and I looked out of doors 
on the trees, the flowers, and the sky. Then, then 
I thought I must have felt as God did when he 
said, ‘ Let there be light ! ’ when he called every- 
thing good. Everything I looked at seemed good 
and beautiful. I wondered that everybody was n’t 
looking out to see the trees and flowers. It seemed 
as if I had been let out of a dark prison house into 
light and beauty, and all I could do was to stand 
and gaze and praise God ! ” 

“The feelings thee has,” said Miss Peace, “are 
the same as a little child has in looking at all the 
new and beautiful things on the earth ; the same 


210 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


feelings that we should retain all our lives when 
looking upon nature, if our senses were not blunted 
and sealed up.’’ 

“And why,” said Violet, “ should anyone who 
speaks in love and admiration of nature be called 
an enthusiast? It appears to me that that would 
be the natural language of the soul, if the sense of 
the beautiful had not been dimmed.” 

“ Certainly,” replied Miss Peace, “ thee is right ; 
but the generality of mankind, the hard workers, 
money getters, office hunters, those striving for 
wealth and power, cry out on all those who are 
different from themselves, the unselfish, the natural, 
the true men and women, as fanatics, whether 
their theme is God, Nature, Human Rights, Equal 
Brotherhood, or whatever may clash with their 
schemes of worldliness.” 

Time passed on in pleasant conversation until 
the shades of evening admonished the visitors it 
was time to take leave. 


A PLEASANT INTERRUPTION. 


21 1 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A PLEASANT INTERRUPTION TO A LONELY 
MUSING. 

“ Then within my heart I feel thee, 

Like a dream of bygone years.” 

‘ ‘ O might life fade away and gently cease 
While the heart vibrates like a golden string ; — ” 

was some time since Violet had in- 
dulged in singing or thought of her 
musical studies; but now, free from 
some of her cares, her mind compar- 
atively at rest, she again made not 
only the grave-yard, the scene of her former prac- 
tice, ring with her voice, but the house also; until, 
as Betsy Low said, “ the place seemed like the 
abode of good spirits, whereas, when Miss Sally 
lived there, she did declare it seemed like the 
abode of the Evil One himself.” 

Miss Peace advised Violet to buy a piano and 
pursue her musical studies, which she did, taking 
lessons of the new organist, the music teacher of 
the village. But it was not of herself alone that 
she thought. 

Every week she went round among the poor of 
Chester, inquiring into their wants, and assisting 
each according to her ability. They were her 




212 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


father’s former care, and whatever faults he had, 
he was kind to the poor. Many and many a good 
word about him did Violet hear as she went her 
rounds. The words brought a healing to her 
heart, that still dwelt on his early crime and 
untimely death with many unhappy thoughts. 

The summer months passed away. Autumn 
drew near, the sunset of the year. The woods 
put on their robes of crimson and gold ; the yellow 
and brown ferns nodded their plumes awhile on 
the green helmet of the earth ; the fall flowers 
looked up with brighter hues than summer ever 
wore, bright as a child’s e^^es sometimes look from 
a dying bed, brighter and lovelier as death draws 
near. On the old stone walls bounding the grave- 
yard the crimson vines hung their drapery, bright 
as once were the hopes of those whose bodies 
crumbled to dust near by. 

The grave-yard was still a favorite place for 
Violet’s walks, for the memory of an old love lin- 
gered round it, written on the flowers, the trees, 
the old grave-stones, and the old tomb. 

Violet walked there one autumn day, and read 
this writing over and over, until her thoughts went 
back months and years, and she was a child 
again, looking up into the one kind face that loved 
her, conning her simple lessons over; and her 
eyes dimmed as she thought of that one, absent so 
long, so well remembered. 

She sat down on the side of the old tomb, dream- 
ing over for the thousandth time all that she had 


A PLEASANT INTERRUPTION. 


213 


ever fancied and believed. She had told Miss 
Peace everything, and received from her the fullest 
sympathy, but no encouragement as to her being 
remembered or beloved ; for Miss Peace wisely 
thought it best to discourage a love that might 
have no fulfillment. 

As she sat by the old tomb, the hours passed 
unheeded. The soft autumn wind blew the dry 
leaves in showers on her lap, and swept her long 
curls over her face. A little bird perched on her 
shoulder and ran over it as if she had been inani- 
mate, so motionless and silent did she sit. Her 
thoughts were indeed in the past and far away, or 
else the manly feet striving to creep cautiously 
along, but crushing the little, brittle vines in their 
elastic tread, might have roused her; nearer and 
nearer they came. The stranger, brown and 
swarthy*, tanned by the suns of warmer climes than 
ours, has nearly reached her. “Pray that she 
may not hear,” murmurs he in an undertone, as 
— one step more — strong arms are around her, 
warm breath is on her cheek, a well-remembered 
voice quotes these lines : 

‘ ‘ Guess now who holds thee ? 

Death it said ! ” 

Violet’s trembling lips finished the quotation, — 

‘ ‘ But there the silver answer rang, 

Not Death, but Love ! ” 

Y^s, it was love who held her ; love that once 
given in true faith can never be recalled, because 


214 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


the heart wishes not to recall it ; love that circum- 
stances sunder not, that distance cannot divide, 
that time cannot obliterate, or death drown in for- 
getfulness. 

It was Arthur, returned from the travels on 
which he had started at the death of his mother, 
to explain away all that seemed unkind and 
thoughtless in his conduct ; to tell of letters mis- 
carried, of his grief at his mother’s death, of his 
grief at receiving no tidings from her ; and he 
finished by telling her the same old story told by 
the first dweller in Eden, old yet ever new, oft 
repeated yet never worn out. The dry leaves fell 
unnoticed, the birds hopped and twittered around 
them, the sun declined, the air grew cold and 
chilly ; but two warm hearts beat near each other, 
stirred by the same joy, and two lives long 
divided had met to flow on together in one peaceful 
stream. 

Still they sat by the old tomb until the shades of 
evening admonished them to enter the house, 
which they did, Arthur, with his bronzed face and 
long beard, frightening poor Miss Peace so that 
she screamed with terror; for she, tired of waiting 
for Violet, had fallen into a doze, and was sud- 
denly wakened by their entrance. All was soon 
explained, however, and Miss Peace, gazing with 
delight on the expression of happiness irradiating 
Violet’s face, said, “ I knew thee would be happy 
at last, because thee is so good ; but I did not 
think thy life’s dream would be realized.” 


A PLEASANT INTERRUPTION. 


215 


We will not linger on this reunion. It will be 
enough to say that Violet’s second wedding was a 
successful one ; that Kris and Jennie stood up 
with her, and if Jennie did shed tears, they were 
tears of joy. 

A short time after this the village of Chester, 
having increased in population, became a town. 
A high school was founded, and the head of it 
given to Christopher Coplin^ or as it sounds most 
natural to us, to Kris, who was soon after united 
to Jennie. Mrs. Truepenny gave up her shop, 
and went to live with her daughter. Kris’s salary 
was large enough to support his mother and sister 
(his father having died some time before) besides 
his own family ; but it was hinted that the new 
minister, Mr. Hinks, who had just been installed, 
made more visits to the moss-covered cottage than 
his ministerial vocation required, and that his 
visits were not all to the elderly Mrs. Coplin. 

Widow Scrubb, after making a large amount of 
money by her liquor shop, saw the error of her 
ways, and gave it up. She joined one of the 
churches in Chester, of which she became a 
zealous member ; and by constant attendance and 
heavy donations to the contribution box in aid of 
the heathen and other laudable purposes, she was 
considered quite a respectable member of the 
community. 

Mr. Frederick Leroy and Dick Wildes received 
the punishment due to their crimes, and were 
given each a close cell in the stone jail at Knox- 


14 


2I6 


A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. 


field, where their ingenuity was turned in another 
direction than that of burglary. 

Miss Skillings found a refuge in the chimney 
corner of Parson Gossper’s aunt, where she lived 
(aswe of ten say of a person advanced in years) 
to a good old age ; but whether it was really a 
good old age or a bad one, we leave our readers 
to determine. 

Alice Hunting, having been disappointed in both 
of the gentlemen she had supposed her lovers, 
Dick Wildes and Arthur Coverly, they having 
chosen those she deemed far beneath her, per- 
suaded her father to leave Chester. 

After the flight of several years, again visiting 
Chester, we will walk round for 'a farewell visit to 
the house by the grave-yard. 

A neat, iron railing surrounds the grave-yard, 
and a row of elms has been planted in front. As 
we pass along we notice no graves, among the 
many blooming with flowers and neatly kept, so 
well cared for as Violet’s mother’s. Parson Goss- 
per’s, Miss Sally’s, and Captain Peter’s. 

But the house — can it be? Yes, the old house 
by the grave-yard still, but how altered ! Its roof is 
slated, large, ornamental eaves project, large win- 
dows replace the old-fashioned, narrow ones. It 
is painted stone color. A neat portico is on one 
end, on the other a room is built out ; its large 
windows on the sides are filled with plants. A 


A PLEASANT INTERRUPTION. 


217 


silver plate on the door bears the name, “ Dr^ 
Arthur Coverly.” 

The lawn in front is planted with shade trees'^ 
pine, hemlock, larch, birch, etc. Flowers are 
around the lawn, in circles cut in the grass. 

We will take the privilege of an old friend, and 
look into the window of the sitting-room. Miss 
Peace, older, but placid and calm as ever, sits 
knitting in her soft, stuffed chair. A wee toddling 
pulls at her drab sleeve with a request for a story- 

Arthur, looking more like his former self, his, 
brown hue worn oft', is seated in a rocking-chair 
playing with a little fellow, the exact counterpart 
of himself, who is astride his foot. 

Violet sits gazing at the happy group, her work 
falling from her lap, with that expression of perfect 
happiness irradiating her face, which reminds us-, 
of the halos floating round the Madonnas of the 
old masters ; perfect happiness, so seldom found 
on this earth, so beautiful, yet so transitory, that 
after all it seems but the faintest shadow of that 
which glides through eternity. 











































